#writing this out did kinda help put them in perspective

[aureatelys]

as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.  

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him—  the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

+1

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you were constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance you got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

[corvidcrossbow]

Daryl's the kinda guy to have a small table in the living room that has the puzzle he's been slowly working on for practically months set out on it – he delicately moves it in front of the couch then sits and silently works on it some evenings, expect for little grunts of understanding when he finally figures out a certain section he was stumped on.

He gets so flustered when you come over to look, standing beside the couch and rubbing his shoulder for a little bit while admiring his work, and he so shyly says a thanks, sheepishly reaching for the next piece while you watch for a little.

He likes to go do it some nights where he can't sleep and feels like he's gonna disturb you by just lying awake next to you in bed, usually when he's having a harder time emotionally – this gives him something to do rather than sulk, even though the thoughts still do get to him while he's working on it sometimes.

Oh god and once he probably went to do that, but Dog came over and had a bit too much energy and knocked the table just enough for everything to slide off and crumble to the floor, ruined.

He just sat there for a moment, looking at the 3d triangular shape his nearly finished puzzle landed in. He didn't even sigh in defeat; he just got up and trekked his way back to your bedroom, gently waking you up by crawling into your arms.

And he buried his head into your neck, breathing you in uneasily and trying to steady himself. But as you rubbed his back and scratched his scalp, asking him what's wrong, he couldn't help but cry a little cause he already felt so negative and now felt sort of crushed, the time and effort he put into that for nothing. It makes him feel stupid; like why is he crying over a damn puzzle? He's a grown man, in a fucking apocalypse. He doesn't have time to cry over something so childish, let alone be doing a puzzle in the first place.

But your soothing helped to wash away his self loathing, tenderly reminding him it's okay to be upset about those kinda things: that it may be small in the perspective of the world, but it meant something to him. He put his time and his effort into it, and that's what made it something big.

That made him cry harder, your confirmation that it's okay to cry, getting that allowance to. His father surely banned crying, even over major things like his moms death, telling him there's no reason for a man to ever cry – and every time he'd beat him he would repeatedly demand he stop crying, until he eventually did: and the only times he ever cried were when he'd escape to be deep in the forest, sit alone and let his walls down for a little before having to put them all back up and face his homelife again, and shamed himself for doing such in the first place.

You're what finally let him express his love for the little things, and express how he felt when bad things happen with said little things.

He definitely didn't have many toys growing up, so he turned to things like puzzles – secretly doing them in his room late at night then shoving them under his bed when he wasn't working on it cause he knew Merle or his dad would make fun of him for it or destroy it – so doing puzzles now heals his inner child, and it getting knocked over hurt him even more cause it brought him back to those memories.

This was not meant to get sad but now I'm tearyeyed at 4:30 am while writing this. He's just tryna mend the kid his childhood broke :(

[pinksobg]

what did you manifest 6 months ago? 🕯️🌷

pile 1 - pile 2 - pile 3

for reflection <3 intuitive reading. missed reading! :) I hope this finds you all in good health 🙏❤️🌷

pile 1 - pile one, I'm seeing you manifesting being kind and warm. maybe you were presented to various situations, most of them conflicting ones, but one thing was present: you were able to maintain kind and even help people out. you could have manifest being able to help people, teach lessons and inspire more in this season of life.

that's a bit specific, but you could also have manifest being someone's inspiration, maybe even someone's muse, someone to look up to. older sister/brother/kid and only child vibes, haha. I won't be impressed if you like old money aesthetics or listen to indie artists. I'm getting Lana del Rey too.

if you are into academics/education, I feel you manifested on that too, especially in focus/manners or time management. still, it feels like it's still a work in progress. not the kinda "not good enough" you know? but your potential is about to expand considerably more.

🤍🌷💐🕯️❤️

__________________________

pile 2 - you definitely seem to have manifest goals. opportunities. consistency. even community too! much information haha. it seems the season your younger self would be much excited for. I think that's the best way to describe it. maybe you were able to work on things in a different way, light or perspective and it was a game changer. maybe you changed your methods and even environments. even changed some relationships (friendships/romantic ones, etc). and some of you could have moved departments or paths. and trust me, that was good. you manifested clarity to work on yourself so it could have ended in a deep cleaning. this cleaning could be in your habits or mindsets. but I still feel major physical shifts. you know this one thing in palm reading, and there is one line that is divided in two ways? it's kinda it. you started fresh, pile 2. that seems nice! you made a lot of progress the last 6 months.

also, a bit specific, but you could have manifest to be more creative. or being able to show it more to the world. you could have invested more in a hobby involving creativity and that was really nice for your mental health. if you work on the creative side, you could have been feeling more confident on this period of your life.

🤍🌷💐🕯️❤️

__________________________

pile 3 - hello, pile 3! here, we mostly see healing and acceptance. you were working on you and your journey. you manifest more peace for yourself. you wanted a breath of fresh air after a tough period of blurry view. now, I sense that you are able to let things out - feelings, situations. and you manifest to move forward. I'm very proud. also, maybe you secretly manifest protection for this period, it was a must, specially from 'evil eye' if you believe in evil eye, of course. it was a period of needed cleansing. you are now more able to move on and to be brave. your manifestations were big deal. I'm really getting this proud feeling. maybe I should try to channel a message for this pile. I'm getting "my little dove" it seems really sweet. "my little dove, no need to cry anymore, these tears of yours - let me put it in the past. take my hands, write it out, bake a cake, call it out, shout it out. you know, I love the way you are doing things now, I love the way you are. you are handling things perfectly. keep it up with hope. keep it up with Faith. you are on the right path." "trust me, chill". wow... I don't know if the "trust me, chill" was for me or for you though haha. thank you. thank you for letting me read for you!

🤍🌷💐🕯️❤️

[ozzgin]

Hi, first i wanted to thank you for doing my first request, it's amazing 😍. Since you did it so fast i wanted to ask for something else.

Could you do something with a Prehistoric reader. She's from the Jurassic like Pickle, she was frozen and brought back to life like him. However she's less agressive and a bit smarter than him. I kinda saw her like a big ( dangerous ) mama Bear, who likes those tiny humans.

I trust you for the rest, you can choose if you want to write about first meeting with fighters (which i find funny in the anime by the way ), how she was during Pickle's fight or what's her interactions with the fighters ...

Thank you for reading this , bye.

I’m so glad you enjoyed it! The speed may vary depending on how easily I can visualize the prompt, since I need a solid movie in my head before putting it into words. Not very efficient but so far it’s been working haha. :’)

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader

Featuring Pickle’s challengers: Kaiou Retsu, Katsumi Orochi, Jack Hanma and Baki Hanma.

Backstory

A million thoughts raced the scientists’ minds upon discovering not just one, but two subjects perfectly maintained within the saline block. Were you partners? Would it be possible or expected that you continue your ancient lineage? While the idea was incredibly tempting from a researcher’s perspective, it was equally dangerous. They considered separating the two of you in order to avoid the risk, but they soon discovered that your help was needed to protect everyone else from the enraged prehistoric man.

The female specimen seemed to have a much more docile and cooperative temperament, with strong maternal instincts. Could it be that she viewed the much smaller modern humans as children? (Y/N) wasn’t that dumb. She could very well tell that these new forms of her own image are matured, but she could also easily asses how fragile they are based on their extreme fear and helplessness against Pickle. They haven’t showed any intent to attack her or Pickle, so she had no reason to be hostile. Pickle was rather frustrated by her frequent scolding, but his expressions seemed to indicate that (Y/N) always had a kind heart towards weaker creatures and it wasn’t his first time having to satisfy her pity. He begrudgingly accepted it.

The Meeting

Truth be told, most of the men had gathered in order to measure up Pickle’s strength. And he was eager to prove it after his quick encounter with Yuujirou’s mysterious techniques. It was only when you stood up and let out a warning growl that they realized the faint beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. Pickle had immediately cleared the way and even the Ogre himself grounded his stance, ready for anything. What a majestic creature, they all thought. Feminine beauty carefully chiseled into a powerful physique, adorned with muscles that would put any bodybuilder today to shame. The same arms that lovingly cradle infants with motherly devotion could easily crush bones and twist frail bodies.

The smell of fear lingered for aggravatingly long moments. You gently placed your large hand on Yuujirou’s shoulder and used the other one to point behind him. Only then did they notice the bright helicopter lights and pleading voices asking them to evacuate. You were looking out for them.

Kaiou Retsu

He’d love to challenge you. Truly. But not only are you a woman, you’ve also never shown Pickle’s excitement for battle. He respects your decision and would never impose his wishes on you.

After his fight with Pickle, he wakes up intact and notices you standing over his wounded body. A miserable smile spreads over his face as the realization hits him: you just don’t want to harm them. That’s why you never fight.

He’s not sure what hurts most. The damage Pickle has done, or his ego after realizing that all you have for them is pity. He’s going to need to find other ways to impress you.

Retsu later catches you trying to reproduce some of his moves and wonders if he’d be allowed to teach you martial arts. Or would that make you too dangerous?

Katsumi Orochi

Unlike Retsu, the damage he’s done to his arm couldn’t be prevented. You allow Pickle to remove the limb given the extensive injury.

Like a father that just played too hard with his children, Pickle follows you around apologetically, as if explaining he had no fault in this.

Katsumi is a little shocked to find you in his hospital room. Embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state by someone like you, he waves his arm frantically and rattles the sheets, mumbling explanations and reassurances. You just stare in confusion. He forgot you can’t understand language.

You wonder if he can survive with one missing limb, as back in your day this handicap could’ve proven fatal in the long run. Should you provide the food for him? The hospital staff entrusts you to deliver Katsumi his meals after they noticed you hunting in the guest garden.

You insist on helping with grooming duties like hair brushing, though Katsumi had to thoroughly gesticulate he’s not as open to being naked in front of you. Please don’t assist him when he’s changing his clothes. Let him have the last remaining bit of manliness.

Jack Hanma

How stubborn! Jack is the first one to feel your mama bear anger. After the fight with Pickle he kept coming back for more, despite being barely conscious. Pickle was becoming increasingly afraid of upsetting you and would throw you worried looks, unsure how to proceed. Eventually you put Jack in a headlock and dragged him back to the hospital yourself.

The next time Jack wakes up, he notices you standing in the door frame, arms folded and flexed in a threatening manner. He can’t help but chuckle at the view. To think that a woman would have such an iron grip on him. Well, you’re no ordinary woman.

As before, you’re unsure of his recovering abilities. You attempt to feed him yourself several times and Jack has to politely suggest that he’s not as frail as you might think. Though somewhere deep down he might secretly enjoy being spoiled like this. He’d never, ever admit it.

Baki Hanma

Baki took you through a rollercoaster of emotions; from being worried that such a tiny, young boy insists on challenging the prehistoric man to squealing in shock at his unexpected strength. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be able to defeat him if you were standing there instead of Pickle.

Unlike the others, Baki has no issue relying on you. In fact, he’s almost shameless about it. Absolutely he is too injured to walk! You can go ahead and carry him. He’ll quickly wrap his arms around your neck and cling to you, grinning.

I think he’d really love the idea that someone as strong as you is also kind and likable. He doesn’t have to worry about proving himself or that you’d look down on him. He’s really craving this newly fond protectiveness of a mother.

He likes teasing Pickle by holding onto you whenever he sees you. The Jurassic man has been on the edge ever since you’ve started becoming attached to these tiny humans. He almost can’t get a moment alone with you. Which makes him extra irritable. You sigh at the two menaces that find new ways to mess with you.

[tranquilpetrichor]

lesson learned

synopsis: in which a tutoring session turns out to be much more in disguise.

cast: tutor!gunwook x fem!reader ft. gyuvin and ricky (briefly)

genre: high school!au, f2l

wc: 2.2k (2225)

warnings: suggestive, making out, yn’s outfit has a skirt, gunwook kisses yn on neck, they call each other "cute" and "hot, they r nerds, please don’t do this in a study room, barely proofread and edited help

a/n: i swear why is finishing stuff so hard, this could be so much better but i'm happy i managed to finish it. also it's kinda hard not writing from y/n's perspective but it shre is interesting. i wanna make longer fics lol but for now enjoy this bc i love writing about nerds and especially ones who are down bad.

be sure to reblog and like to support your creators!

bright sunlight filtered in through the windows of the empty study room as park gunwook typed away on his laptop, trying to get homework done quickly.

outside, some students were walking across campus, birds were flying freely, and there were a distinct lack of clouds in the sky.

he would probably be there too, but he was supposed to be tutoring you soon. as boredom was slowly starting to set in, he double-checked the time. it was one minute after your appointment was set to begin.

odd. you weren’t usually late to anything.

before he could ponder it further, you walked into the room, sighed and put your stuff beside him, apologizing for being late. “i was talking to another professor about something, and i didn’t expect it to take that long. my bad…”

something seemed a bit different about you, but he wasn’t sure why. he shrugged the thought off and chuckled quietly.

“it’s no problem, y/n. one minute is nothing. do you prefer the curtains open or closed?”

you waved a hand at the window. “let’s close them.”

he got up and pressed a button on the light switch panel near the doorway, and the curtains automatically came down. this private school sure spent money on interesting things, but at least they were occasionally useful.

cute outfit, he thought.

was that a new pair of boots? it paired nicely with the skirt you were wearing. you managed to look hot and adorable at the same time.

how unprofessional to be distracted by your appearance—he frowned.

snap out of it. it’s time to do math, not stare like an idiot.

luckily, you didn’t say anything, even though he swore he saw a tiny smirk on your face, which you quickly removed in favor of a more neutral expression.

that was weird, he thought as you got your tablet out—the one you liked to take notes on during the calculus class you two had together.

he wasn’t sure of your exact grade in the class, but he heard it was quite high. you were smart, but didn’t seem to have problems asking for help if you needed it. in his opinion, that was pretty admirable.

gunwook noticed that if you did need help, you’d go to the teacher or try and talk to him. the two of you exchanged numbers eventually, texting each other for study sessions.

he loved being able to talk to you more, slowly learning little things about you—like how you wore a certain necklace on big days for luck, that your go-to snack was nuts (he couldn’t help but think of you as a squirrel after that), and that you had a dog named citrus.

he got the feeling that you weren’t the biggest on socializing with many people, preferring to only keep compaany with a few friends. he’s mutual friends with a few of them, like jungwon.

it was refreshing compared to his large friend group (although he loved them) and the many people who were merely interested in him for his looks.

of course, he wouldn’t mind if you were interested in his looks, but hopefully you also liked something beyond that.

you probably did—who else would end up chatting about precious stones or logical fallacies with him? he loved seeing you excited and passionate.

god, his face was probably going to be red if he kept this up.

“i see you said you wanted to look at stuff from the last lecture when you were booking the session,” he said, trying to banish certain thoughts from his head. “series can be difficult, so i get it.”

you nodded, offering him a sweet smile. “yeah, i just wanna go over a few of the divergence and convergence problems on the first practice problem set. i have the problems listed here.”

you pushed your tablet in his direction, and he picked it up.

he glanced at your solution for the first one, nearly written. “i mean, it looks like you applied the test correctly. just to make sure, how did you know to use that one?”

you didn’t hesitate to answer.

“given series is a p-series where p is equal to three. p is greater than three, so the series will converge.”

as expected, you kept up with his questioning. of course you probably knew what a damn p-series is. he’d just wanted to hear your voice some more.

speaking of voices, maintaining a professional tone with you was a miracle. gunwook’s composure and eloquence were paramount to getting him through student council meetings, debates and tutoring sessions, but those skills seemed to want a temporary vacation.

“do you want to move onto the next one?” he said, defaulting to his standard tutor voice.

“mhm. i remember our teacher said there was more than one way to do it. i never tried to figure out the other ways, but now i’m curious.”

gunwook flipped to a certain page in his notebook. “do you want me to show you how i did it? it’s definitely a different method, but we got the same answer.”

you shrugged. “sure. take your time.”

you were twirling your stylus pen in your hands and swiftly tucked it atop your ear. fuck, did you not know how cute you looked? your hair was neatly parted near the middle right now, but he wondered what it’d be like to see you disheveled. at this point, he might be thinking with something other than his brain.

you spent another few minutes talking with him, bringing his memory back to previous tutoring sessions. he remembered you said once that having to justify your reasoning on a topic was one of the best ways to deepen understanding, and that he was skilled at identifying the holes in your arguments.

“that’s why i would hate to lose a debate against you,” you had admitted. “it’s always more fun when we can work together.”

the offhanded comment could’ve had another meeting. as an friend, gunwook couldn’t quite discern your intentions, though. whether you just wanted him at arms length or in your arms was just another guessing game he played.

he was aware that the balance of power was always shifting between you two, but at the end of the day, you two were pretty much equals intellectually, keeping things in equilibrium. however, his underlying feelings of attraction threatened to ruin the balance.

as the session continued, you had a satisfied smile. you asked him about unrelated math proofs and got him off track. why did you want to discuss all this when your sessions were usually more focused? something was definitely off.

“well, that was actually everything i wanted to ask about,” you said to him suddenly, packing up swiftly. “i was just going to go if you don’t have anything else.”

he frowned.

no, please don’t.

what was wrong with him?

“unless, you wanted me to stay..” you continued, a smirk on your face. your laptop was closed and all of your study materials were neatly filed away.

you were definitely teasing him, and it was working, your behavior making him somewhat flustered. there was no turning back if he let himself escalate things right now. he could just let you leave—that’s what rational gunwook would do.

fuck it. rational gunwook was not in the room right now.

he reached out and grasped your arm. “and if i did?”

you smirked and stepped towards him. “then i’ll make sure you don’t regret your choice.”

with that, you pressed your lips to his, surprising him. gunwook quickly recovered, his arm snaking around your waist, pulling you in more.

no wonder you booked the session for an hour and a half.

if anyone opens this door, i’m definitely getting kicked out as a tutor. at least these walls are pretty soundproof.

he pulled away for a bit to catch his breath. "wow, did you come here just to kiss me?”

you laughed, gazing at his eyes. "it wasn't only for that, although i'd be happy to do it again. let me clarify. i have feelings for you.”

you continued. “i’ve honestly thought about it. you’re hardworking, and not just in the classroom. when i see you practicing or studying, you dedicate yourself fully, and it inspires me to do the same. you're kind, even to people who don't deserve it. on top of that, you’ve always been a good person to talk to about anything and everything. i trust you.”

“oh, and i guess you’re cute. and hot.”

you added the last part with a small smile. after each reason, he found himself surprised by your sincere words.

gunwook groaned. “y/n, you have no idea how down bad i am. i don't even remember exactly when it started, but what i do know is that i met someone interesting, someone who challenges me and jokes with me. someone who's beautiful in every way. i'm so fucking into you."

he paused, before deciding to tease you a little. "i have a question about one thing, though. you ‘guess’ i’m cute?”

“well, did you want me to say for a fact that you’re cute?” you asked.

he pouted slightly. “would have been better.”

“fine,” you said, taking his hand. “it is an undisputed fact that you’re cute.”

“thank you.”

"and hot."

"i guess so..." you rolled your eyes, an amused grin on your face. “now can we get back to kissing?”

“i was acually trying to be professional, even though i had feelings for you too,” he whispered against your ear. “but since you insist, i’ll give you what you want.”

not wanting to rush despite his boyish excitement, he leaned down and slowly began to kiss you again, running one of his hands gently through your hair. you closed your eyes.

“want you to take control, gunwook,” you said, your breath hot against his skin and your arms wrapping around his neck.

how could he say no? he was so screwed whenever it came to you. wasting no time, he brought your hips closer to his, enjoying the proximity.

he’d never seen you like this, so blissful and carefree. all he wanted to do in this moment was to make sure you kept feeling that way.

he got a small idea.

“hold on, i’m going to lift you,” he said, and you tightened your hold on him, lifting your legs so that they wrapped around his waist. you looked like a koala, hanging on so protectively to him like he was a branch.

you let out a tiny laugh of glee—it was the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

he moved over to a chair, and carefully sat down with you in his arms. your skirt was spread across your lap, contributing to the newfound messiness of your appearance, and your legs dangled off both sides of the chair.

“let me know if you don’t like something,” he said in between kisses. “the last thing i want to do is pressure you.”

“of course,” you responded, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly.

as a surge of newfound confidence rushed through him, his kisses became more intense, trailing down to your collarbone. you tilted your neck slightly to allow him more access to the area.

shit, he was probably the luckiest guy alive right now.

“so beautiful,” he murmured, tracing your chin with one of his hands, “and you’re mine.”

damn, calm down now.

“wow, for someone who’s so sweet, you sure do have a possessive side.”

he winced. “is it too much?”

you laughed and smiled playfully. “not at all. i find it hot.”

that sentence alone sent a warmth through his body.

“that’s good to know,” he replied with a smirk. he was definitely going to do that more often.

soon, his lips found yours again, like a moth to a flame. damn, he could spend all day doing this (if they had no risk of getting caught).

in his pocket, his phone buzzed, and he sighed, looking at the notification.

gyuvin: r u coming to get ice cream with me and ricky? u said ur tutoring thing with ur gf ends at 4:00

the time was 3:44 pm. wow, were they really at it for that long?

gunwook smiled. gyuvin had texted “gf” as a joke, but little did the poor guy know.

“is it something important?” you asked, still on his lap.

he shut off the phone, looking back at you. “it’s gyuvin. during lunch, me, him and ricky made last minute plans to get ice cream—they’re asking me if i still want to come. i should get going soon.”

of course, his feet didn’t want to move.

you looked intrigued. “do they mind a plus one?”

yeah, they're going to tease me the entire time.

“i’ll ask,” he responded, face somewhat warm from embarrassment. "but one of these days, i’ll take you out on a proper date, just us two. you deserve it.”

your eyes lit up, and you smiled. “i’ll hold you to it, gunwook.”

his phone buzzed again.

gyuvin: yea sure bring her, we support

gyuvin: besides i have ricky he's gonna be my bf now

"they said yes," gunwook said, laughing silently at gyuvin's last message. "let's go in 5 minutes?"

you reciprocated, resting your head gently on his shoulder. "any longer and i don't think i could leave."

[scoobydoodean]

how much do you think chuck was actually affecting the movement of the plot throughout the series?

personally, i think he was just observing them from season 6 to season 10, but then he actually had to get involved upon amara’s return. and i do like the theory that he was responsible for the “vision” that cas thought he saw from jack, and that he kinda let mary get killed after cas’s prayer in 14x17, before again becoming fully involved throughout season 15. but for the other seasons 1-5, most of 12-14, and really for the overall universe, idk how much can, or should, be ascribed to chuck’s machinations. like i can never decide which route would be most satisfying for me as a viewer, and so i’m just curious as to what your opinion might be :)

Jack visions theory

Probably helps just to say starting off for anyone who might be coming from a different perspective, that my own understanding of Chuck's machinations in Supernatural (at least when it comes to Sam, Dean, and Cas) do not involve directly violating their free will. Chuck's machinations involve shaping the experiences around our characters to convince them to make the choices Chuck wants them to make. For example, when Dean tosses the gun aside in 14.20 and refuses to kill Jack, Chuck shouts "Do it!" instead of putting some kind of mind whammy on Dean that makes him kill Jack because Chuck either can't do that or won't do it because it wouldn't get him off. Chuck needs Dean to do what Chuck wants him to do (kill Jack) because Dean was brought to a point psychologically where he chose it. The same thing is true of Sam in season 4. The demons or the angels or Chuck don't operate Sam like a robot—they slowly convince him to take one turn after another based on the psychological state he's in, the things happening around him, and the things being whispered in his ears until he's killing Lilith and Lucifer's cage is opening, and Ruby says,

No. It wasn't the blood. It was you... and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time. You didn't need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo! I know it's hard to see it now... but this is a miracle. So long coming. Everything Azazel did, and Lilith did. Just to get you here. And you were the only one who could do it.

I refer to Chuck's influence on the narrative as causality rather than fate. I have a tag for this called #spn and causality. 4.18 goes to great lengths to show how difficult it can be to subvert causality. For example, Dean tries to defy the writing by moving himself and Sam to a different hotel than Chuck wrote them to be in, but the motel's neon sign goes out, causing the name of their motel to "change" to "The Red Motel"—the motel Chuck wrote. ("No matter what details you alter, we will always end up here" etc etc). However, this episode goes on to show that it is possible to leap out of causality's flow. Chuck's control of the narrative ultimately works via anticipation. If he can anticipate his creations choices, his writing realigns everything with the narrative. If they do something he is unable to anticipate? They can leap out of his narrative just long enough to make a difference.

How do they leap out of causality's flow? Two things together: Dean and Cas. Quoting myself here in this post:

Leaping out of causality is something Dean and Cas do together in 4.18, 4.22, and 5.22. In 4.18, Dean pleads with Cas to help him save Sam, even though Cas thinks what’s going to happen is fate and can’t be subverted. Cas doesn’t personally act, but he gives Dean the idea that Dean then executes, leading Chuck to say “What are you doing here? I didn’t write this.” In 4.22, Dean pleads with Cas again. They again fight about the inescapability of destiny. This time, it’s Dean’s pleading but Cas’s actions—flying Dean out of the green room (somewhere Dean is incapable of escaping from on his own). Chuck says when they pop into his house, “Wait. T-t-this isn’t supposed to happen” and then “Yeah, but you guys aren’t supposed to be there. You’re not in this story”. In 5.22, after Lucifer takes Sam over (something that was foretold to happen in Detroit), Cas and Bobby despair, but Dean refuses to give up and calls Chuck, who says, “Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow. I, uh, I didn’t know that you’d call.” Then Dean goes to Stull Cemetery alone. However, the moment that Michael begins to walk up on Dean and says, “You little maggot. You are no longer a part of this story!” Guess who suddenly appears with a holy oil Molotov cocktail?

Dean and Cas are something Chuck seems to have a lot of trouble anticipating. I think this is true both individually and as a unit. Individually, Dean is the narrative heart, to an extent that his capacity for love is always exceeding the bounds that Chuck anticipates, leading to confounding leaps like showing up at Stull in "Swan Song" and dropping the gun in "Moriah" and saving the world with the power of love in 11.23. Dean in turn pleads with Cas with that heart, and Cas is angel with a crack in his chassis straight of the line. Naomi/Chuck cannot get Cas to do what he's "supposed" to do no matter how many times he's reprogrammed. He has Loving Dean Winchester/Humanity (same thing) Disease and it's incurable no matter how many lobotomies are attempted.

In the season 1-5 setting, Chuck is actually fairly hands off despite all of this being his prophecy foretold. He told the archangels that everything would end with Sam and Dean as the vessels for Lucifer and Michael (5.08) and Lucifer passed these stories on to his princes, and the angels and demons brought that prophecy to fruition—including with deliberate meddling in the Winchester/Campbell bloodline (5.13, 5.14). Heaven and hell act as Chuck's hands and feet, carrying out his plan out of desire and (in some cases) religious fanaticism. Because Chuck's so painstakingly worked on this narrative and everything is set up in advance, he can just watch it play out. When he interferes directly, it's actually to give Team Free Will a better shot at subverting him. Chuck only directly interferes in

4.22/5.01 to transport Sam and Dean to the plane, un-demon blood Sam, and resurrect Cas

5.22 to resurrect Cas again

All that said, I think season 1-5 is the original Chuck canon, which is subverted by Team Free Will working together, and most specifically, by Dean and Cas interfering in ways Chuck did not anticipate. And Chuck was fine with this. His narration at the end of "Swan Song" reveals that he's pleased, even if the story turned in a direction he didn't anticipate (maybe the Michael and Lucifer story started to bore him—they bore me, and him wanting Sam and Dean to mirror them so rigidly was rather uninspired).

I get the sense that Cas is probably a good litmus test for whether Chuck's entertained or not by the story subverting his expectations, because Cas is not "supposed" to be a part of the original story, but Chuck keeps bringing him back anyway. And yet, somewhere down the road, Cas falls wildly out of favor with Chuck, and Chuck is hurling rage at him for never doing as told—the very thing he seemed to like about Cas at first.

Maybe I'll see things that will make me change my mind as I work through seasons 7-10, but so far, I agree with you that season 6-10 seems to be a mostly "hands off" period, with Chuck only arguably interfering once, to bring Cas back a third time in season 7, depending on how seriously/literally you take Daphne's recollection of events in 7.17:

EMMANUEL/CASTIEL A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and... unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me.

It's not necessarily clear exactly where Chuck loses interest (or if for example, Cas might fall out of favor with Chuck before Sam and Dean do). Chuck shows up in season 10's "Fan Fiction" to see a play of his work, so he was clearly feeling fond enough to celebrate his handiwork in an very non-prestigious but intimate setting. But when Chuck shows up in season 11's "Don't Call Me Shurley", he talks to Metatron about traveling (to his other universes, perhaps?). Chuck's writing his memoir, and Metatron claims it's full of self-doubt and nebbishness. Chuck's apathy jumps out to Metraton quick too. Metatron criticizes Chuck for writing only two paragraphs on the archangels in his memoir, lending to the notion that Chuck had come to a point where they bored him. Metraton tries to remind him that Lucifer was his favorite because he rebelled, but Chuck then denies that Lucifer was ever even his favorite! He doesn't like this rebellion thing so much anymore... which might also tip his hand as far as how he's beginning to feel about Team Free Will. I think it's likely that Amara is the catalyst for his change of heart, but I'll have to wait until I circle back to season 11 to have a fully formed conclusion on this.

Then we get seasons 12-15 where—at least arguably—Chuck begins planting the seeds for a new final ending, trying to force Dean into the role of Michael—the son so loyal to him that he killed his own brother. The problem is that Dean's never really been like Michael, and that's the whole reason season 5 never worked. It's also the reason "Moriah" doesn't work. Lilith claims in season 15 that Chuck has a creepy obsession with Dean—Dean specifically. Dean whose loyal love fills Lucifer with such seething jealousy in "Swan Song" that he loses control of Sam's body just as Dean's pleading brings Sam's consciousness to the surface to fight. That same loving heart thaws Amara toward Chuck in 11.23, and I think Chuck... decides that he does not like this. It is something beyond his capacity to express or to anticipate and write around. It is transformative, causality-defying love, that ruined his original ending (and he's BORED and TIRED). And has given Cas Winchester Derangement Syndrome so he can't be controlled. He decides that he hates Dean Winchester's heart, and he tries to obliterate it out of existence and force Dean into the Michael role once and for all.

[loudclan-clangen]

(I thought of something funny)

Whenever Owlstar comes back to camp from solo walks, there's just this giant banner at the entrance reading "Welcome Back, Cheater."

Slitsplash swears they didn't put it up, but appreciates whoever did it.

Meanwhile, Fiercestripe is smirking in the background. (She did it)

They’re throwing him a party!

(˃̣̣̥▽˂̣̣̥) These asks all flow together so well I genuinely cannot tell if they are multiple people or just one person who is SO PISSED. Made my night to see these all come in at about 2am. If Owlstar has 100 haters im one of them, if Owlstar has 1 hater it's me, if Owlstar has no haters im dead.

I do! It was actually incredibly comical from my perspective because Eklutna showed up, did fuck all for 5 moons, got pregnant, then promptly died giving birth, to which i went "aw, that sucks" clicked on her kits, and SAW THAT THIER DAD WAS THE LEADER, SOMETHING THAT I DID NOT KNOW COULD HAPPEN. Eklutna didn't even have any romantic like for him, to my recollection, and Owlstar had like maybe a single tick for her? It was really just lucky rng I guess. Owl and Silt actually didn't break up in the game at all, in my original draft for the story, when i was just writing notes as i played, Siltsplash was a lot more... okay with it? Like they were pissed but their personality was a lot more demure so they didn't act on anything really. The exact quote from the draft was: "I won’t lie to you. I’m angry. Starclan, I’m more than angry, I’m furious. I have half the mind to tell you to leave and never come back.” They paused, seeing Owlstar deflate and taking some slight, bitter satisfaction in it before continuing, “But that wouldn’t be fair to those kits. They didn’t ask to be born, much less to you. They deserve to have a family, or as much of it as they are able to have, and starclan help me we’re in this together." It certainly fit with what I knew about them then, but given my ability to look forward and see future events, I decided that a break up made more sense.

Don't be sorry! I am not currently in artfight, I'm considering it but I wouldn't be able to be very active due to school, and I don't want to take another break from this blog so soon after my last, so it's not very high up on my list of priorities. I'm kinda casually working on refs for the more popular characters, so there's a chance I'll get those done and join a team, especially if it's something you guys want me to do. If that happens I'll be sure to let you guys know! I am now in art fight! I gave into peer pressure again. (In a good way).

I don't think even Silt knew. Siltsplash was OUT of it after their conversation with Owlstar, (see: the Eklutna hallucination), and they probably didn't even know where they were headed until they reached the nursery. But after setting eyes on the kits, Siltslpash knew that there was only one option. Yes, they "took the kids in the divorce" but truly they weren't thinking about revenge. They just saw kids who needed something that they could provide.

In terms of writing, though, since I have hundreds of moons of foresight, it was a total bait and switch. I needed to make sure that people had a reason to come back after the break and any comic with kittens in it usually gets a lot of attention, so it was a "marketing" decision to split up the moon the way that I did, in order to make sure that there wasn't too bad of a fall off in interaction for the blog.

In game Eklutna had an affair with Owlstar, died giving birth, and the "died giving birth" event overwrote the "reveal affair" event so technically, in game Owlstar didn't reveal the affair... ever? (Though I had written in my notes that he told Siltsplash who took them as their own). Story wise, Owlstar hadn't planned to tell anyone until the kits started asking about who their father was. Then he would tell them, and would probably reveal it to the clan when they earned their names and were able to become deputy. But, when Eklutna died all that went out the window. For all his faults, Owlstar is not a bad dad, and he would never leave his kits orphaned, even if it would get him in a lot of trouble to do so. He really does care for them, and he feels terrible about how much he's screwed up their lives so far.

He did bad, deitycrows, he did bad. He cheated on his mate and then his affair partner died in childbirth so he's not very popular rn, I've got to be honest.

I don't think it helps at all but, Owlstar did really genuinely like Eklutna! Now, was that because she never opposed him on anything and flattered him with adoring compliments at every opportunity? Possibly. But the "Starclan said" thing was honestly just more of an excuse for him. He woulda had an affair anyway, he just wouldn't have intentionally had kits with her.

:) Eklutna liked... the power that Owlstar held. She liked that he was chosen by Starclan to lead the clan, she liked that his kits are meant to inherit the position of leadership, and she liked that as the mother of his kits she would have a lot of control over both him and the leader after him. As far as his personality... he's kinda a clown but she could live with that.

To be frank: The order of inheritance is ABSOLUTELY FUCKED. If Eklutna had lived, it would be easy. She would take over as deputy until one of the kits was old enough to hold the position. But, since she's dead and Owlstar's only heirs are literal infants, as their adoptive parent Siltsplash is still the deputy for now. What happens when the kits reach adulthood is kinda up for debate. As Owlstar's closest descendant, Songkit should be deputy upon earning his warrior name, BUT Siltsplash is very much against that plan, and the kits might not want to go against their most attentive parent. So the very unhelpful answer is: We have to wait and see what the characters decide.

Thank you so much! I love to hear from first time viewers and see what you guys think of the characters! I'm glad that the dialogue worked so well and Eklutna definitely has Sol vibes! You look at both of them and go "in what world would this plan work the way you wanted it to???"

[aliteralsemicolon]

honestly, the whole ai fight or disagreement thing is kinda insane. we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools. the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world.

you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog. it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet. ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays.

Okay so...no. It's never that black and white. Otherwise I could argue that you might as well go 100% technological and never touch grass again. Which sounds just as silly. There are many problems with AI and it's more than just 'robots taking over'. It's actually a deeper conversation about equity, ethics, environmentalism, corruption and capitalism. That's an essay I'm not sure a lot of people are willing to read, otherwise they would be doing their own research on this. I'll sum it up the best I can.

DISCLAIMER As usual I am not responsible for my grammar errors, this was written and posted in one go and I did not look back even once. I'm not a professional source. I just want to explain this and put this discussion to rest on my blog. Please do your own research as well.

There's helpful advancement tools and there's harmful advancement tools. I would argue that AI falls into the latter for a few of reasons.

It's not 'just AI', it's a tool weaponised for more harm than good: Obvious examples include deep fakes and scamming, but here's more incase you're interested.

A more common nuisance is that humans now have to prove that they are not AI. More specifically, writers and students are at risk of being accused of using AI when their work reads more advance that basic writing criteria. I dealt with this just last year actually. I had to prove that the essay I dedicated weeks of my time researching, writing and gathering citations for was actually mine.

I have mutuals that have been accused of using AI because their writing seems 'too advanced' or whatever bs. Personally, I feel that an AI accusation is more valid when the words are more hollow and lack feeling (as AI ≠ emotional intelligence), not when a writer 'sounds too smart'.

"You're being biased."

Okay, here is an unbiased article for you. Please don't forget to take note of the fact that the negative is all stuff that can genuinely ruin lives and the positive is stuff that makes tasks more convenient. This is the trend in every article I've read.

Equity, ethics, corruption, environmentalism and capitalism:

Maybe there could be a world where AI is able to improve and truly help humans, but in this capitalistic world I don't see it being a reality. AI is not the actual problem in my eyes, this is. Resources are finite and lacking amongst humans. The wealthy hoard them for personal comfort and selfish innovations leading to more financial gain, instead of sharing them according to need. Capitalism is another topic of its own and I want to keep my focus on AI specifically so here are some sources on this topic. I highly recommend skimming through them at least.

> Artificial Intelligence and the Black Hole of Capitalism: A More-than-Human Political Ethology > Exploiting the margin: How capitalism fuels AI at the expense of minoritized groups > Rethinking of Marxist perspectives on big data, artificial intelligence (AI) and capitalist economic development

I want to circle back to your first paragraph and just dissect it really quick.

"we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools."

One quick google search gives you many articles explaining that and deeming this statement irrelevant to this discussion. I think this was more a case of inexperience with the internet and online data. The generations since are more experienced/familiar with this sort of technology. You may have heard of 'once it's out there it can never be deleted' pertaining to how nothing can be deleted off the internet. I do not think you're stupid anon, I think you understand this and how dangerous it truly is. Especially with the rise in weaponisation of AI. I'm going to link some quora and reddit posts (horrible journalism ik but luckily I'm not a journalist), because taking personal opinions from people who experienced that era feels important.

> Quora | When the internet came out, were people afraid of it to a similar degree that people are afraid of AI? > Reddit | Were people as scared of computers when they were a new thing, as they are about AI now? > Reddit | Was there hysteria surrounding the introduction of computers and potential job losses?

"the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world."

I think this is a logical guess based on pattern recognition. I cannot find any sources to back this up. Either that or you mean to say that artists and writers are not being harmed by AI. Which would be a really ignorant statement.

We know about stolen content from creatives (writers, artists, musicians, etc) to train AI. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves.

Let's use writers for example. The work writers put out there is used without their consent to train AI for improvement. This is stealing. Remember the very recent issue of writer having to state that they do not consent to their work being uploaded or shared anywhere else because of those apps stealing it and putting it behind a paywall?

I shouldn't have to expand further on why this is a problem. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves. If you're still wanting to argue it's not going to be with me, here are some sources to help you out.

> AI, Inspiration, and Content Stealing > ‘Biggest act of copyright theft in history’: thousands of Australian books allegedly used to train AI model > AI Detectors Get It Wrong. Writers Are Being Fired Anyway

"you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog."

...

"it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet."

Yes there is usually a general fear of the unknown. Take covid for example and how people were mass buying toilet paper. The reason this statement cannot be applied here is due to evidence of it being an actual issue. You can see AI's effects every single day. Think about AI generated videos on facebook (from harmless hope core videos to proaganda) that older generations easily fall for. With recent developments, it's actually becoming harder for experienced technology users to differentiate between the real and fake content too. Do I really need to explain why this is a major, major problem?

> AI-generated images already fool people. Why experts say they'll only get harder to detect. > Q&A: The increasing difficulty of detecting AI- versus human-generated text > New results in AI research: Humans barely able to recognize AI-generated media

"ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays."

AI is man-made. It only knows what it has been fed from us. Its intelligence is currently limited to what humans know. And it's definitely not as intelligent as humans because of the lack of emotional intelligence (which is a lot harder to program because it's more than math, repetition and coding). At this stage, I don't think AI is going to replace humans. Truthfully I don't know if it ever can. What I do know is that even if you don’t agree with everything else, you can’t disagree with the environmental factor. We can't really have AI without the resources to help run it.

Which leads us back to: finite number of resources. I'm not sure if you're aware of how much water and energy go into running even generative AI, but I can tell you that it's not sustainable. This is important because we're already in an irrevocable stage of the climate crisis and scientists are unsure if Earth as we know it can last another decade, let alone century. AI does not help in the slightest. It actually adds to the crisis, we're just uncertain to what degree at this point. It's not looking good though.

I am not against AI being used as a tool if it was sustainable. You can refute all my other arguments, but you can't refute this. It's a fact and your denial or lack of care won't change the outcome.

My final and probably the most insignificant reason on this list but it matters to me: It’s contributing to humans becoming dumber and lazier.

It's no secret that humans are declining in intelligence. What makes AI so attractive is its ability to provide quick solutions. It gathers the information we're looking for at record speed and saves us the time of having to do the work ourselves.

And I suppose that is the point of invention, to make human life easier. I am of the belief that too much is of anything is every good, though. Too much hardship is not good but neither is everything being too easy. Problem solving pushes intellectual growth, but it can't happen if we never solver our own problems.

Allowing humans to believe that they can stop learning to do even basic tasks (such as writing an email, learning to cite sources, etc) because 'AI can do it for you' is not helping us. This is really just more of a personal grievance and therefore does not matter. I just wanted to say it.

"What about an argument for instances where AI is more helpful than harmful?"

I would love for you to write about it and show me because unfortunately in all my research on this topic, the statistics do not lean in favour of that question. Of course there's always pros and cons to everything. Including phones, computers, the internet, etc. There are definitely instances of AI being helpful. Just not to the scale or same level of impact of all the negatives. And when the bad outweighs the good it's not something worst keeping around in my opinion.

In a perfect world, AI would take over the boring corporate tasks and stuff so that humans can enjoy life– recreation, art and music– as we were meant to. However in this capitalist world, that is not a possiblility and AI is killing joy and abolish AI and AI users DNI and I will probably not be talking about this anymore and if you want to send hate to my inbox on this don't bother because I'll block your anon and you won't get a response to feed your eristicism and you can never send anything anonymous again💙

[sevs-corner]

Back to more ideas on Tf 141: Mafia AU!

(Im world building rn + epilogue/ extra scene to the 1st Chapter)

Link to prev part:

So I was thinking how, the relationship would build between the 5 (Tf 141 and reader) naturally, ‘cause I want the story to build off of like small interactions and one shots but sometimes have like, coherent chapters in between to stabilize the “plot” per se.

(Im rusty with my writing skills and I kinda dont edit, ‘cause this is just practice for me but still lmao)

And I want it to be something gradual (just call it slow burn, they say) and I know I write interactions in a slow kinda way where it bounces back and forth from person to person, showing the reader’s perspective then subtly shifting to the character’s perspective— but I think I want to experiment into that, focusing more on dialogue and conversational exchanges that shows how close their relationship has gotten.

For ex, I was thinking how Soap was still wary of reader in the first chap- not as affectionate as he is with his mates right off the bat, he’s wary and it comes naturally in his line off work. You’re an oddity sure, but its not like he’ll put down his walls for you (yet). His speech is rough and clipped, not wanting to reveal much but letting you be privy to the information he can provide- in the mean time anyways.

Yet , at the same time, I want to show his attraction—

He’s enamored and has (maybe) a little crush, but who wouldn’t when you’re so pretty? Sitting there in the room where they grew up, blanket lazily draped across your form as your barely awake self tries to wake up on his bed, hair poking out in all sorts of places, drool dried at the side of your mouth but damn did he think you were a fresh sight to see in this city.

Maybe you were seducing him? Or was it the allure of the domesticity that was lacking in their relationship? He puts those thoughts to the back of his head ‘till he waits for the news of that meeting he was left out of last night- he feels its important when checking out who you really are.

They can’t afford to be careless, but on the other hand- you kinda were, when you first met them unfortunately, that is. Absent-minded and clumsy, that was what he thought of you as he stared at your tripped up self, sadly sitting in a puddle in pain. You were pale, shivering, and simply a mess.

Honestly, the more that he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense to treat you like a threat. Well, at least not an active one at that. You could have been having an off day as a spy or an assassin, but if it were him— he wouldn’t be caught slacking like that in public, whether people knew him or of his occupation either way.

He could even see how you lowered your guard! Jeez, you should be more careful- especially with people like him and his mates- if you’re new to the place. He thinks you might be a lil’ looney for going to this place, especially that part of the city when all of its occupants know that it was mostly a dangerous area to get in to and stay at.

As the neutral hub for all of the mafioso around the cities, it is the one place for regular folks not to get involved in. (Unless you want to meet them of course, but he doubts that was your intention… or, shit- it could have been, considering how Price found something on you.)

Now he thinks of you as a potential client, which makes him feel worse of how off-handedly he treated you.

He knew he was gettin’ an ass kickin’ from Ghost if you were, surely.

Alas, what done has been done- at least you still treated him normally as he left, so he thinks he left a good impression.

Though, that wasn’t at the forefront of your mind right now.

Quite literally, you were being worked to the bone for information from the old Italian couple that helped you stay at their lodgings at the 2nd floor of their bakery.

“‘It’ll help un-fuck my week,’ they said but all gave me was a hope that my minimum wage self has to fight for as they get free labor in return!”

But you don’t dare say that, knowing you were speaking out of turn and out of misplaced anger so you keep your mouth shut- cleaning up the bakery for the opening in the morning.

The couple was sweet, but they were also strict, telling you that “you should move your arse so you can sweat off the sick!” Which… you didn’t want to make sense off so you just nodded, asking if that was the compensation for the information of finding your place, and they agreed. On the stipulation that you work and do all the chores on the list they handed you, making you gape and about to ask for a little consideration— but they quickly disappear, out of sight and out of mind, they say.

And you think that was better before you started mouthing off, not get anything, and then end up lost once more— which you wanted to avoid at all costs so you did sweat off the sick.

Albeit, you looked worse for wear.

Which Ghost bluntly points out as you waited their table.

…let’s just say that it was an overtime work-shift that you didn’t get money for and old italian people were slave drivers.

(yes, i made the love-hate relationship start with nonna and nonno)

[dr-spectre]

WE DID IT!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!!!! This is such a big milestone. Halfway until 1000 followers... that's absolutely insane!!

This will be the last follower update until we reach 1000. But, I wanna share something special with you all and get rather personal...

So, about a year ago, I wanted to learn how to draw because I was feeling depressed about "not being productive enough." Basically I got sucked into the bullshit productivity self help stuff that wants to turn your life into a cold calculated work obsessed nightmare, rather than living in the moment due to fear mongering about the future and how "if you don't grind now you WILL be a failure and die alone and get no pussy." (No wonder I picked Team Present for the Grand Fest...)

Plus I dropped out of uni at the time and welp, to put it lightly, I was feeling fucking god awful and I was scared into basically "putting in the hard work" by all these self help channels and other bullshit online. Whatever the FUCK that vague shit means, my autistic brain still doesn't get it.

It was BY FAR the worst period of my life, but, at least I tried to do SOMETHING. And I wanna show you all some of the things that I drew last year....

This was between October 2023 to February 2024. I stopped drawing due to it causing me much frustration and anger.

So yeah! Uh... enjoy?

So.... not the best work you've seen, right? HAHAHAHAHA!

Would you freak out if I told you that I got upset and damaged a book and a fan because I got so mad at myself over not being able to draw or do anything right?...

I feel like this ain't for me, and you know what? That's okay! I've learnt that it's okay to try new things, it's okay to experiment and if shit doesn't work then it doesn't work. Plain and simple. It's perfectly fine to give up and try something else.

You are not a robot, you are a human being. Don't feel like you "gotta do something everyday otherwise you'll die alone and you'll be broke and you'll never be successful and you'll be forgotten!!"

Do feel pressured to feel like you have to "find your thing" or "be productive" or whatever kind of... heh.... BRAINWASHING you hear online.

I wanted to draw because I was jealous of others, including my friends who are skilled artists... and I did it for the wrong reasons which is why I stopped in February.

I am very happy that I've decided to actually focus on what i like doing and what gives me energy. A quote that has stuck with me for years now is a quote by Jordan Peele from an interview, and it's basically this-

"Follow the fun." And you know what? He's right. Following what gives you that good good boost of dopamine while also feeling like you're accomplishing something is one of the best feelings EVER!!!! Whether it's art, writing, modelling, sculpting, architecture, making music, acting, clay sculptures, etc. FOLLOW THE FUN!! FOLLOW THE SHIT THAT EXCITES YOU!!! I literally always have multiple projects spiralling around in my head all the time and cycling between them at every given moment.

I'm not even saying do only what makes you comfortable or be lazy either, do shit that makes you go "BRING IT ON!!!! I WANNA DO THIS!!!" Get that blood pumping!!! Challenge yourself fairly!!!! There's healthy and unhealthy stress. Healthy stress should make you feel like a fucking PREDATOR!!! AN ANIMAL ON THE HUNT!!! While unhealthy stress makes you feels like you're the prey, the one who's being chased by an unknown force that's out to get you!!

I feel like I'm kinda rambling... anyways!!! ENOUGH WITH THE INSPIRATIONAL BULLSHIT!!! THANK YOU ALL!!!!!! 99% of you have been awesome and incredible!!!

It's also been an honor to get to know so many people who feel the same way as I do about a certain squid lady and her best friends.... before I went onto tumblr I genuinely felt so alone and so insane. I felt isolated, I felt like no one saw these characters the way that I do... I thought my perspective of a certain squid lady and her rebel phase was invalided and false... But now I know that I have people who have my back and understand what I'm trying to express...

One final time, thank you. I'll keep going.

STAY FRESH!!!!!!!!!!

[lazysadpotato-comix]

so, for the wordgirl 2p au, what exactly did two brains, or Steven, do to Becky? I presume he did some kinda experiments on her? Is that what made her so different from our worldgirl personality wise or is she just like that?

Also do those presumed experiments have anything to do with her hatred for writing/word puzzle and dislike of huggy and her family in the au?

Dr. Two-Brains & WordGirl

▶️ WordGirl 2P AU Masterpost⭐️

[2P AU Dr. Two-Brains’ Post] ⏪️~⭐️🌟⭐️~⏩️ [2P AU Becky’s Post]

��� My Ko-fi ☕️

Good questions! I’ll try my best to explain it as best I can!

[[Additional information: Bob’s alter ego name “Huggyface” in the 2P AU is simply a name WordGirl likes using to mock him; she often only calls him “Captain”]]

[[“Mentor” — Definition: An experienced and trusted person who guides and supports you when you are in need]]

The experiments that were done to 2P!WordGirl is not too different than the ones seen in the Original Series’ shorts, (It’s implied that WordGirl went to Steven Boxleitner for assistance before the events of “What’s up, Doc?”) the only difference is how they’re played out. The experiments are more harsher, always pushing her limits to see how far she can go — all in the name of science.

Since 2P Alternate Universes typically change the characters to be the complete opposite of the original material’s, this means that the Botsford family was never… the greatest. Safe to say, they’re not the best example for a growing alien child. For Bob/Captain, he’s as negligent as the Botsfords. And although she’s grateful for being taken in by them, she also can’t help but wonder if she was better off under someone else’s care.

So, meeting someone like Steven Boxleitner — a man of science and the author of the “Creation of Superheroes: A Practical Guide” book — Becky latched onto him, seeing him as a mentor that could help her and guide her, make her understand what’s her purpose. After all, she’s not from Earth; some strange cruel fate brought her here. So, what is she made for?

But, the more she spent time with him, the more she realised she was just another lab rat for the scientist. His book? A study on alien life, comparing the differences between a human and a “classic superhero”. And with that, a festering grudge began to settle inside her. Both her parents and Steven Boxleitner showed her just how humans can be — negligent, selfish, proud, incompetent, the list goes on — all things that she truly believes doesn’t make sense for such a fragile species. Thus, she begins her journey as WordGirl, a “hero” who protects Fair City not because she cares for it or because of “justice” or anything like that… but because it belongs to her. She deserves it.

Bummer. Anyway, on a more lighter note, Becky doesn’t like crosswords/word puzzles because she feels it’s patronising. As for writing, she doesn’t like it because she finds it difficult to put feelings and perspectives into words which is why they often come out as bland or boring. Ironic, isn’t it?

Feel free to ask again! The inbox is open and welcome to any questions about the 2P AU or others! ((Currently working on answering your second ask!))

[spaceagebachelormann]

alright. Maybe I am attracted to black and white classic monsters. Maybe I did read your Adam Frankenstein fanfiction even though I don’t quite know if he’s the monster or just some other guy related to the scientist. Maybe I’ll request something.

I notice you don’t have any Jekyll and Hyde fanfiction. I can help with that. Maybe falling in love with both Jekyll and Hyde? Like, being in love with both and not knowing who to choose? Don't know if you can write something like that, but man am I thinking about it.

✧.* 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐑. 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐑. 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES: black and white monsters are so hot bbg nobody is blaming u 🙏 also if it helps adam frankenstein is a name for the monster given by the fandom because the creature/monster feels rlly mean. also if u have any other jekyll and hyde or frankenstein requests, i’m your girl

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: mentions of murder (its jekyll and hyde)

oh you poor soul

falling in love with them both is a horrible, horrible, mistake

jekyll is pretty oblivious to it, he just thinks you’re being nice, but he is suspicious because you’re being a little to nice

but for the most part he doesn’t overthink it

hyde, though, knows almost immediately

and it really amuses him

will start kinda rudely flirting with you and affectionately bullying you simply because he finds your reactions funny

will very subtly compliment you in some way and have to stop himself from laughing when you turn bright red

when jekyll finds out about this he is extremely embarrassed

embarrassed at the way hyde is acting and embarrassed he didn’t realize sooner

he begins thinking, and it really explains quite a lot

it explains the way you act around both of them, how you go out of your way to do things for them, how you switch up when your alone with them than with other people

jekyll is both honoured and terrified that you actually like him

it puts both of them at an impasse because they can’t agree on what to do

hyde wants to keep tormenting you and messing with your mind into thinking he likes you (he’s not even sure if he does or not)

but jekyll wants to either politely reject you or ask you out in a meaningful way

the main issue is they don’t know if they really do like you or not

hyde is mainly just surprised and almost disgusted you actually like him, but he’s too interested to not be more curious than anything

because, honestly, him?? of all people??

jekyll is sure he also likes you, but he’s also refusing to admit it because of hyde

he’s mainly concerned of what he’ll do to you if your feeling for him are one sided, he doesn’t want you to end up hurt

he’d rather die than be the reason someone else is hurt (that’s why hyde is there, but in this case he doesn’t even want hyde to do it)

they accidentally avoid you while trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do

hydes urge to kill you (if he ever really even had one) is gone almost immediately, he just thinks your very stupid and amusing now

he almost. almost adores you

the situation is much worse for you in your perspective

you like both a murderer and a sociopath, it’s not great for you

even worse you’re convinced you have to choose just one

and they’re also both kind of avoiding you which is really horrible

they don’t even realize they’re doing it, which is the worst part

so, while you’re trying to figure out who’s the best option for you, they’re trying to figure out if they both even like you

well actually they’re sure they do, they just can’t agree on a way to move forward

once their little era of avoiding you is over, they’re both very nice (hyde is nice in his own way)

jekyll invites you over and gives you a long meaningful talk about their feelings and where they are in figuring it out, and he also gives an apology for accidentally ignoring you for a week or two

hyde is still pretty much himself, but you find him looking at you more often and offering to kill people you mentioned not liking before

he most likely does it, even if you don’t want him too

he goes back to his regular affectionate(ish, you can’t tell if he’s being really serious or not) and slightly crude flirting

but now you know he really does mean it

you all take your time in finding out how you’d like to proceed, until they both just confess to you and you use hydes idea of just moving forward and figuring everything out as you go along

[nitrowyverine]

I think I write dating sim/VNs/etc reviews now? Anyway,

LOST IN LIMBO REVIEW/THOUGHTS

This VN piqued my interest, so I gave the demo a shot! This review will follow the same general format as my Obscura/Touchstarved review, except there's 7 (!!!) romance options.

Since I totally loved this game, I'm going to put the conclusion promo up here too: if Lost in Limbo interests you, consider playing it Here, Here on steam, and/or backing it Here!

ALSO! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE DEMO!

My (long winded) thoughts are below:

(Banner image courtesy of the Ravenstar Games tumblr account pinned post. Individual character pics courtesy of tumblr posts from the studio. Individual posts are linked in character titles.)

Gameplay design thoughts:

the plot immediately sucked me in, I'm pretty invested in whatever the hell is going on with the protag, the realms, the lords, etc. I think the setup/land are deep enough to draw me in, but not so intimidating in it's depth that I'm afraid to explore more.

I always enjoy a little bit of nightmare fuel in my games, so the voidbound are perfect. They're so gross and horrible, but not just a stock zombie/nightmare creature design. Whenever the voidbound pop up, it makes the back of my neck itch, which is perfect.

I have no idea whose route I'll pick first. Usually I have one candidate that I can pick out as number 1. This game however? I go back and forth all the time, since I love all of them. I do think I have bias for Ara/Gael/Amon/Envy, maybe?

I really want to design an MC to doodle for this, but I feel like I don't know enough about other people in the realm. (Mostly, I'm assuming that standard humans don't have pointy ears? how close to our reality is the regular world?) I might say "screw it" and design an MC anyway (with some speculative clothing for once they get cleaned up)

The backgrounds have been great set pieces so far. Sometimes I catch myself just kinda staring into space at them. They've got a fantastic flavor.

Misc. Thoughts written during a replay

Fun touch to have Evie's rock image from the beginning fortune shop scene line up with the 7 LI's color schemes.

Each of the VA's does a lovely job with their voices. I've been turned off of certain dating sims because of bad voice acting, but the acting in this game is superb so far. It really helps set the richness of the story.

I have a theory that the LI's (and possibly people in Limbo in general) experience pain differently. The characters seem largely uninterested in the MC's stabbed, weakened state, beyond a "Oh that sucks....we'll clean you up later" mentality. I wonder if they have different pain tolerances, or are just less attached to such things. (Then again, Amon and Raeya have full missing limbs/eyes, so they probably have a decent perspective on pain altogether)

What does wielder/non-wielder mean? Xal says the MC "Can't wield, can't see." What do the LI's see that we don't? Ara mentions that the MC seems "Completely normal". Many mysteries.

I need those monster forms like crazy oh my goodness. Please devs PLEASE SHOW THE MONSTER FORMS

Now, to the lovely love interests!

Amon

WHO LET THIS MAN BE OVER 7 FEET TALL? PRIDE YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO

I only just noticed he also has a few freckles, *chefs kiss* (Waaaiit do all of them have little freckle skin textures??? Oh this is a glorious day.)

It's hard not to love a big friendly guy. I was honestly relieved when he first showed up, because I did Envy's route first, and I was thrilled to see a friendly face in the big dark scary woods.

This does not mean, however, that I'm not excited to see what this guy turns into when he's mad.

I like that he has pity for MC when they first show up, but I do worry it makes his resolve weaker. I'm not as confident that he could handle society/reality breaking down as well as the others. Can he put aside his affable nature for when shit hits the fan?

Question: What level of fight had to happen for Amon to lose his eye? He's already huge, and has some sort of telekinetic powers. My theory is that he was taken by surprise, maybe by someone close to him.....(Envy I'm looking at you)

RIP Amon you would have loved Hawaiian shirts

Conclusion: Most likely to be the camp counselor who hurts his back from always giving piggy back rides. Least likely to keep his composure during a badly timed pun/dad joke.

Raeya

I'm fighting for my life whenever shes on screen good LORD

Similarly to Amon, I GOTTA know the story behind her prosthetic arm. Its so rad looking, but how did she lose a whole arm? (I am also considering that she was also not born with one)

Playing the demo again, she makes a specific comment about the monsters having not "infected a limb" of the MC. My bet is that's how she lost her arm.

I wish I could have spent 1:1 time with her, but it wasn't offered in the demo. I'd love to have like, a sit down discussion with her about history. (Well I'd be fine getting lectured about history and drinking tea and hanging out)

Out of everyone's motivations, I think I understood Raeya's the most. Even if she was against MC, I think her concerns are completely valid. If an alien fell out of the sky from a different reality to earth I'd ALSO be taking every precaution

She and Amon have matching ear chains, that's adorable....

I hope I can take her on a nice date and spoil her and let her relax in the full game, pretty please. Nothing bad will happen right???

Conclusion: Most likely to gently remind the waiter that you said NO pickles with your order, thank you very much. Least likely to admit to being the one who farted in a crowded room.

Envy

every other line from him is "UGGGHHH" and i love that for them.

After playing, I think I've finally realized that I've got a soft spot for grumps. just grumpy lil friends with their pouty faces

I want (vivi's) Envy's nails SO BAD. I need him to do my nails because theirs are perfect. Envy, envy PLEASE

They pretend not to care, but are already getting attached to the MC by the end of the demo. I can't wait to see what they're like when they actually DO get attached

Elephant in the room, what could he have possibly done to get himself demoted so severely? Everyone seems to be fine with him being demoted except Amon, who sheepishly vouches for him when he can.

I just wanna wrap him in a blanket burrito like you do with a spicy kitten. and then give him little smooches

Conclusion: Most likely to be they guy who gets one drink at a party and sits in the corner with the dog/cat all night. Least likely to allow their partner to willingly boop their nose with any regularity.

Pride

Old man yells at cloud? No....old man IS cloud.

The dev's tumblr has mentioned that he's a pathetic old man, but for now at least, I am afraid of his authority and power. since hes like. yaknow. the big god of this world

The VA did some fabulous work for his voice. I definitely got actual chills in certain parts. 10/10

Okay, so WHAT is this guy's deal with mirrors? He looks great, why is he worried about it. I sincerely doubt he's just 52 though, if he's a god. (as a note for all these interests, I have a feeling that the ages are their physical ages, and not their actual ages. Or at least, age relative to ours. I think they're much older in our years than in their years.)

We also didn't get any 1:1 time with Pride in the demo, so I'm fascinated to see what alone time with Pride would be like. Is he quiet? a chatterbox? Just a guy??? does he only play piano and not talk to you. (power move)

Conclusion: Most likely to show up WAY over-prepared for Parent-Teacher conferences. Least likely to understand and survive the cinnamon challenge.

Ara

Certified CUTIE PIE

We got a pretty clear demonstration of everyone's powers in the demo, except for Ara. Unless it was too subtle for me to realize, I'm not actually sure what her cool powers are yet.

If she DOESN'T have plant powers I'd be very surprised.

I keep wanting to think things like "I have to protect her" or "keep her safe at all costs". But then I remember she's likely absolutely terrifying, and I honestly should be actually afraid for anyone who gets in her way.

I would like to remind/inform everyone that so far, she is the only member of the cast who is visibly armed at all times. (Raeya doesn't count even if her arm claws look really really sharp.)

If I have to pick anyone to party with, it's probably Ara. I know she'd throw an absolute rager, but would also make sure you stay hydrated. I wanna hold her hand too. Please?

I'll go butch for her, i'll do it if thats what she wants. I'm weak

Conclusion: Most likely to be able convince you to give her your kidney. Least likely to let you skip a bloodthirsty game of monopoly because you "Have a headache"

Gael

where did he find pants long enough for him.

Okay. So its HIS fault that Amon has the deepest V-cut since time immemorial. Do you think Amon and Gael had an extensive argument about the minimum amount of clothes Amon has to wear at any given time? Because I do.

His powers certainly did not. Awaken anything in me. Nope.

he has the shortest and most perfect arc from stranger -> friendly -> ???? -> BETRAYAL

I am MASSIVELY curious about his dissociation/spacing out during the demo. He was 8 million miles away in the tower for some reason, and I HAVE to find out why. I just KNOW this man is doing some questionable shit with good intentions and I can't wait to find out what it is.

So, he has SOME issue with touch. No idea what it is, but I can't wait to find out what it is. Also noting he's the only one with full-coverage gloves in the cast. Interesting...

Conclusion: Most likely to cry after being sent those sad FB/insta animal stories. Least likely to let you open your own car/carriage/etc door under any circumstances.

Xal

He looks so soft. I have to bully him, in a good way. (Like grim from Date with Death)

I am fascinated as to why he would lie for MC. That's such a great hook to his character. What does a guy who so desperately wants to be left alone have to see to stick his neck out for a stranger?

SOMEONE get this man a NINTENDO DS POST HASTE

THIS GAME HAS TO GET FUNDED BECAUSE XAL SAYS HE HAS A CAT AND I WANT TO SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I will do it, I will be the one to tuck him in when he is too eepy. I will carry him to bed and kiss his little head good night

Wait, if he can "Figure something out" by touching it, he could be like, the worlds greatest doctor. Xal please get off the couch and help me diagnose mystery ailments in a medical sitcom

Conclusion: Most likely to injure himself rigging up a Rue Goldberg machine to scratch his back. Least likely take it easy on you once he learns how to play super smash bros. (He's a fox/falco main)

Concerns:

What the Ravenstar team has already been able to accomplish is incredible. I'm worried that with 7 whole love interests (with a possible two more on the way if the kickstarter goes well), i'm worried the devs are taking on a whole lot of work. I think they're fully capable of taking this on, but I hope they don't burn themselves out in the process.

I'm pretty happy to see the kickstarter is moving along, but there's always the chance that something happens, and/or the kickstarter goal isn't met. BY THE TIME I FINISHED WRITING THIS IT GOT FUNDED LETS GOO!!! I still hope this project makes it all the way to completion beyond the kickstarter. Things can always happen, so Ive got my fingers crossed for the Ravenstar team!

OVERALL CONCLUSION:

I loved the demo, and I have now backed the project! The team is trying to hit stretch goals now, so share Lost in Limbo with your buddies! I crave content for this game like nothing else.

[skyward-floored]

This is an earlier version of my fic Murkier Waters, which I’d saved because I thought Legend’s perspective was interesting, even if it didn’t end up working for the end product. It ends at an odd moment and is kinda messy so pleeeeaaaase read the actual fic for much better writing (and an ending lol).

Anyway, voila. Fishy Legend from a different POV.

————————————————————

“I think we’re lost.”

Legend groaned at Hyrule’s words, watching as the traveler looked around at the trees above them. He stepped into a particularly moist section of dirt while he wasn’t looking, which splashed mud on his boots, and he failed to hold back a sigh.

“I told you we should’ve turned left at that last pond,” Legend grumbled, and Hyrule shrugged with an apologetic smile, a bird cawing loudly in the distance.

Hyrule had sensed a great fairy somewhere in the vicinity, and Legend had tagged along with him, half out of curiosity, and half to make sure his successor didn’t get completely lost. He’d rather failed on that second point though, and they were now miles away from the others in a swamp unfamiliar to them both, getting more lost by the second.

He hated not having a map.

“You don’t think this is the swamp that the Smithy said still had some poison spots in it, do you?” Hyrule asked as he stepped over a puddle, and Legend hummed, looking around.

“How many swamps can there possibly be around here? I haven’t seen anything poisonous-looking though, so maybe Four was wrong,” he replied.

Hyrule nodded, waving a bug away from his face. “Yeah... maybe whatever was left here finally got cleansed or something.”

“Maybe.”

They continued forwards through the muck, swatting away bugs and avoiding one or two birds that swooped past. They had to fight off a couple of keese at one point, but that was the only thing that actively antagonized them, and their walk was fairly uneventful.

Legend wasn’t sure how long they’d been going when the forest opened up, a small lake coming into view through the trees, tall banks on all sides except the one they were standing on. The opposite shore was easily visible, but the water itself shone with an unnatural shimmer, the depths murky and dark.

“Guess we found our poison water,” Hyrule said with a frown, looking across the oily-colored liquid. Legend grabbed a stick and poked it into the water for a minute before pulling it out and inspecting it, but the wood hadn’t corroded at all, and appeared unharmed apart from the slick now coating it.

“Well it doesn’t seem like acid at least,” Legend hummed, giving the water a suspicious look. “I still don’t think we should cross it though.”

Hyrule didn’t appear to have heard him, suddenly perking up as he stared across the shore. His eyes shimmered a little, and Legend raised an eyebrow, leaning over and looking at him.

“Traveler?”

“I think the fairy fountain is over there,” Hyrule replied excitedly, squinting across the lake. “I can feel the magic way more clearly now!”

“Oh. Well that’s great,” Legend drawled. “Except for the fact that there’s a poisonous lake in between it and us, and even if it wasn’t poisonous, you can’t swim.”

Hyrule waved him off, rifling in his bag a moment before pulling out a pair of boots.

“Doesn’t matter, I can walk across water with these, poison or not,” he said with a smile, already slipping off his other pair and putting on the new ones. “It’ll be easy!”

“Well how am I going to get across?” Legend said grumpily, admiring Hyrule’s boots. He could tell they were magic just looking at them, despite their unassuming appearance. Well-made too, magic interwoven as the shoes had been put together, allowing the wearer to walk across water.

...He wanted a pair.

Hyrule looked at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t have any items that’ll help you get across?”

Legend kicked at the mud, mentally going through the list he had of all of his items. Of course he did. He had at least six different ones. Did Hyrule have no faith in him?

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well then come on! Let’s go!” Hyrule said with a smile, and without further ado began walking across the water, faint ripples emanating out from where his feet stepped on the surface.

“I need a pair of boots like that,” Legend grumbled jealously, then pulled out his ice rod to freeze a path he could walk across.

If he was alone, he’d just allow his mermaid transformation to take over and swim across, but he didn’t trust the murky water underneath him one bit. Hyrule didn’t know about his curse yet anyway, and he’d prefer to keep the number of people aware of it as small as possible. Though Hyrule would probably take it in stride, knowing him.

Either way, Legend wanted his feet on something solid, and the ice rod was perfect for that.

He was just glad he’d packed his snowshoe ring.

Hyrule was a small distance ahead of him by the time Legend was ready, and he smirked to himself as he watched the traveler, an idea forming in his head. Legend cracked his knuckles, then suddenly bolted forwards, freezing a path as he ran and quickly catching up to the other boy.

“See you on the other side!” he called behind him, and he heard Hyrule let out an indignant noise, the sound of his boots slapping against the water alerting him to the fact that the traveler was trying to catch up. Legend smirked, and flicked his wrist, slightly curving the ice and making it easier for him to gain speed as he charged across it.

Hyrule was fast though, and soon caught up, then passed him, hair flying in the wind as they raced towards the opposite shore. He didn’t waste his breath on words, merely shooting Legend a cheeky grin as he shot past, and Legend adjusted his cap with a competitive scowl.

He wished he could safely use his Pegasus boots on the ice as he watched Hyrule pull even further ahead, but he’d quickly slip out of control, even with his snowshoe ring.

But Legend was still fast without his boots and managed to put on a burst of speed, quickly pulling up next to the traveler.

Hyrule let out a breathless laugh, and Legend grinned back as they ran, sunlight sparkling off ice and water alike. He and the traveler were neck-and-neck as they raced, and Legend felt his annoyance at the day so far fade with every step he took, keeping pace with Hyrule as they raced across a likely-poisonous lake together.

It’d been too long since he’d goofed off like this.

The shore drew nearer and nearer, Hyrule and Legend both sprinting as fast they could, and Legend was sure that Hyrule was just barely going to beat him —

— Until a scaly green hand shot out of the water, grabbing Hyrule by the ankle and pulling him into the lake.

Legend’s happiness evaporated as Hyrule cried out in surprise, his yell cut off as he was dragged under. Legend jumped forwards and reached out for him mere seconds too late, catching sight of the fear in Hyrule’s eyes before he was lost to his sight in the murk.

“Traveler!” Legend shouted, voice cracking with panic, “Link!”

The water didn’t so much as ripple.

Legend stared for a only a couple more seconds, mind whirling, then he shoved his ice rod into his pack as he bit back a curse.

Hyrule couldn’t swim. Hyrule couldn’t swim and even if he could, some kind of monster had dragged him deep into likely-poisonous water, nullifying the power of his boots and very likely currently trying to eat him.

And Legend could easily save him with the magic in his bones.

Legend hesitated at the thought, looking at the oddly-colored water. He didn’t know what it would do to him if he transformed in its depths, what effects it might have on him if he swam around and breathed it in.

But Hyrule was down there.

Legend looked at the murky water one last time as he drew his sword, then took a deep breath and dove in without further hesitation.

The water slipped around him like a slick of oil, the familiar magic of his tail twisting around his legs as soon as he was submerged. Legend took the few moments while it did its job to look around, squinting as he searched for Hyrule, but saw no sign of him.

Legend’s legs finished painfully merging into a powerful cerulean tail, courtesy of the item he’d picked up all those years ago that had become as much apart of him as his regular magic. He shook out his fins, and finally saw something thrashing nearby. Swimming rapidly towards it, Legend spotted Hyrule struggling with a scaled creature of some kind, his face panicked as he held his breath.

Legend growled and prepared to strike at the monster, but then he took a deep breath.

And it burned.

The water was like fire the moment it filtered through his gills, sending flames searing all throughout his chest.

Legend gasped, but that only made it worse, more of the oily water pulled into his system, the taste of it sickening. He barely felt like he’d taken a breath, and each consecutive one felt worse then the last, stinging needles of ice spreading through his veins as he struggled to breathe.

Ah. Right. Poison water.

Which he was now breathing in, in no small volume.

He coughed, starting to feel sick, but then he heard a hiss and Legend was reminded he wasn’t the only thing in the lake. He managed to swing his sword at the monster despite the ache spreading through his muscles, and it screeched, slipping away with Hyrule still in its grasp.

Legend chased after it, ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest and the burning of his lungs, squinting through the murk.

He could barely see anything, surprising since his transformation usually granted him much clearer underwater vision. But despite the gloom and barely-there streams of sunlight filtering through the water, Legend finally caught sight of two glowing eyes, and he couldn’t help but return the hiss the creature sent towards him.

It was hard to fully make out, but he could just barely see green scales and red fins, glowing eyes and grasping claws that were still clinging to Hyrule, the traveler struggling weakly in their clutches as he tried desperately to escape.

A Zora. The corrupted version that lived in his and Hyrule’s lands.

...Obviously a long way from home, considering they were in Four’s era.

Legend swung his sword as the Zora abruptly released Hyrule and charged at him, eyes blazing. A shrill screech gurgled outwards, and Legend pinned his webbed ears back at the noise.

Claws slashed at his face and Legend reeled backwards, but he was satisfied to see a cut on the Zora’s chest. Black blood billowed through the water from both this and his earlier strike, and Legend was careful to avoid it as it spread, the dark cloud as black as ink.

This water was bad enough on its own— infected monster blood was the last thing he needed.

As if to remind him what he was swimming in, a sickening feeling abruptly swept through Legend, and he breathed in a shallow gasp. The taste of the water was all in his mouth, he could feel it and smell it and taste it and it was awful and Legend had to fight back the urge to be sick.

He gritted his teeth as his vision wavered a bit, coughing and fighting past the heaviness sinking into his limbs. Every breath he took he felt worse, every bit of water that rushed through his gills making his head grow thicker and limbs like lead.

If he was doing so badly, he could only imagine the state Hyrule was in, and hoped the traveler had managed to hold his breath so far.

If he hadn’t...

Legend shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on that. He needed to finish this.

Now.

The Zora screeched, and Legend watched as it streaked towards him, green scales blending into the water. Legend twisted away from it as it lunged, swinging his sword around, but claws gouged into his side even as his weapon struck the monster.

His side screamed in pain as his muscles ached, his lungs were on fire, but Legend threw himself forwards anyway, plunging his sword right into the middle of the Zora.

The monster let out an earsplitting keening noise, thrashing to get away from Legend’s sword, but he held tight until its thrashing slowed, then stopped. The beast abruptly fell limp, beginning to sink before it exploded into purplish dust.

Legend didn’t stick around to watch, darting for where he could see Hyrule struggling to reach the surface.

Hyrule saw him approach and his eyes went wide, eyes darting over his tail and scales, webbed hands and gills. He tried to back away, but Legend held out a pleading hand towards him.

“It’s me,” Legend warbled, ignoring how it hurt to talk, and Hyrule stared at him another few moments, gaze softening as recognition lit up in his eyes.

Then he clutched at his throat, bubbles trailing up from his lips.

Legend didn’t hesitate any longer, noting the blood in the water wafting from Hyrule’s ankle. He slung the traveler’s arm over his shoulders, and Hyrule didn’t resist, clinging to his arm rather tightly, and he began to swim for the surface. The Zora had dragged them deep, nearly to the bottom, and it was quite a ways upwards to go.

Legend’s tail seemed unusually heavy as he swam, and he found himself slowing considerably, struggling to focus on his goal.

The sunlight above began to smear, a high-pitched whine ringing in his ears, and Legend desperately pumped his tail, fighting to get him and Hyrule out of the horrible water. But his tail had gone numb, and the ache of his muscles and the fire in his veins and throat and side and everywhere were too much.

He wasn’t going to make it.

Legend gritted his teeth, and put all his remaining energy into giving Hyrule one last desperate shove towards the surface, feeling a spark of hope as Hyrule’s head appeared to breach.

Then he felt himself begin to sink, too weak to keep himself going.

Legend looked through half-lidded eyes at the blood he knew was his, wafting around his tail and shimmering in the weak sunlight. Even the smallest of breaths hurt, lungs and gills aching with fire, and Legend‘s eyes slipped closed, despite how he resisted.

He didn’t want to die like this, or at all, really... but he was content that he’d at least saved Hyrule from a similar fate.

At least he won’t drown... Legend thought as pain and darkness overwhelmed him, and his world disappeared into shadow.

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

I always see people say things like "oh i wish i was erin everly/shes so lucky to date axl rose" etc and after falling down in a rabbit hole, i found an article about the Erin lawsuit and one quote hit me really hard

"Despite pleas from friends and her mother to leave Rose, Everly refused. “I always believed things would get better,” she says. “And I felt sorry for him. I thought I could make [his early childhood suffering] all better.”".

People have said that she isn't innocent victim (which makes sense since yes she also didnt have the best upbringing) but still my heart breaks for her. In the article David Arquette who was in a relationship with her after Axl, says that she flinched a lot and he had to constantly reassure Erin that he wouldnt hit her. I sometimes try to imagine what their relationship would be if he seeked professional help early in his life. At some point i was certain that he loved Stephanie more, but i guess at the time he was dating her, he was just at a better state of mind and knew better how to express his love.

Totally. It would’ve been interesting to know how their relationship would’ve turned out had Axl gotten therapy sooner. I can speculate that he may not have been as aggressive or had as many frequent outbursts as before.

Some fans said that if Axl didn’t leave Erin for Stephanie then his cycle of abuse would’ve continued. But since he was with Stephanie he managed to break that cycle, ponder what went wrong in his relationship with Erin, and tried to be better, not only for himself, but for the people around him, including his new partner. This kinda debunks the early therapy part because, if Axl received therapy, but continued his cycle of abuse, then it’s clear that he needed to leave Erin for his own mental sake.

I’m not trying to demonize Erin here. Believe me, I like her a lot more than Stephanie, but she wasn’t right for Axl either. Sources mention how Erin was the aggressor who would push Axl’s buttons, or provoke him in a way, that caused him to lash out/defend himself from her. Instead of indulging in a screaming match with each other, they both should’ve communicated with one another and try to see the other’s perspective on what not to do and how to make things better between them. What’s sad is both Erin and Axl didn’t get to love each other properly because of the damage in their lives as Axl once noted:

I think One is one of the greatest songs that have ever been written. I put the song on and just broke down crying. It was such a release. It was really good for me. I was really upset that my ex-wife and I never had a chance because of the damage in our lives. We didn't have a chance and I hadn't fully accepted that. The song helped me see it. I wanted to write Bono a letter just saying, "Your record's done a lot for me."

The song One from U2’s album Achtung Baby was released in November of 1991, the same year Axl started dating Stephanie Seymour. He was still mourning the loss of Erin when he was with Stephanie and he was trying to heal from other things like his childhood past that came back to haunt him. Axl did view Stephanie differently because, for him, she was the right person to be around, and he thought she was perfect. She supported him when he talked about his childhood trauma in a Rolling Stones magazine article and when Izzy left the band.

I understand Erin and Axl were a cute couple, and I know there are lots of fans who still wish they were together. But the truth of the matter is…those two weren’t meant to be together for the long-term. As for Axl and Stephanie, it was the wrong place and the wrong time for them.

From my experience, the people who wish they were Erin are the ones who don’t know much about that relationship lol. I don’t blame them for saying that either tho, sometimes I think I could’ve helped Axl, but at the same time…it might’ve been impossible, and I don’t think I could’ve lasted as long as Erin did. Reality sucks…

I know Axl deserved better. He truly did 🥺 and it breaks my heart knowing he hasn’t found the love of his life yet. I’m still manifesting that he’ll find the right woman someday, but only if he wants it to happen.

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?

Words ~ 2040ish

Warnings ~ None

GIF NOT MINE. CREDIT TO RHEEDUS.

And I am back, kinda lost motivation to write, then life got in the way once more, the kiddos are back at school now so I have more free time to update my stories. 

Sorry if this one seems a little off (It does to me right now) currently fighting a headache but wanting to get this chapter out for you all. 

The Entries Chapter 4

The next day you hear the revving of a motorbike outside, and you sit up in bed, peeking out the window to see the man who you assume is Daryl straddling the seat as he revves it. You can't help but to take in his arm muscles as his hands grip the handlebars. He is talking to Michonne who nods and waves him off as he speeds out the gates, the dog beside her running after him but stopping at the gates.

You close the curtains and lay back against the headboard opening your camera and taking a photo of the room, as you wait for it to print, you start writing in your journal about you experience and how you got here. 

Still not too sure if anyone has found the others you sent out into the world, and if they did, did they read them? Did they flip through the pages to see the story within? No matter what you still take the time to write and share your experiences.

You rip some tape off and stick the photo to the page and start writing. This will be the first positive entry in a long time, when you start writing, you put all that has happened in the last 48 hours, making it a very different entry than what you were used to writing.

You started noting all the good things here, the people who you met, how they seem so welcoming. You truly wonder if this could really work out for you? 

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Entry 30 ~

"Death is coming. A horde full of biters, to many to guess are heading towards us, we probably have a couple days before they get here. I have tried to tell the group if we don't move, we are going to die but they said we are fine as long as we don't draw attention to ourselves. 

I have started packing, my bag is always on my back, weapons in my boots and holsters. I am ready to run. No-one else is, I go out document the horde daily, they will tear though our camp. 

I barely sleep these nights, terrified for us all."

Daryl looks at the photo of the horde and recognizes the location as one that they have seen once before, the horde now though triple in size since you took this photo. This fills Daryl with a sense of hope that you might be in the area, with reading the journals he feels somehow connected to you. 

He places the journal back in bag he has strapped to his bike. He is not too far from the Commonwealth now; he pulled over to have a quick break and to stretch his legs after riding for so long. After walking for a bit, he picked out a snack and the journal to bide the time till he felt like riding again.

He had hoped he wasn't needed at the Commonweath for too long though, he would much prefer to stay at the Kingdom.

That night, he laid in his room and once again found himself reading again. 

Entry 31~ 

"The night is filled with groans of the dead, as they march towards us. I plan on running out during the night, I know I shouldn't, I should stand and fight for my camp, but this is a battle I know we cannot win; we don't have enough bullets, and we don't have the room to hide it out."

Entry 32~

"I couldn't leave, I really wanted to but as I stood at the gates of my tiny community, we cannot stay here. If it wasn't for the children, I have grown to love as family I would have been long gone.

But now Death is at our doorstep."

Entry 33~

"I was able to convince some of the group to leave, just moments before the horde started tearing through our camp. We lost 5 of our friends today, as we drove away, we could hear the gun fire and screams that slowly were drowned out by the groans of the dead.

It was only the adults that had to witness the terror of it all, the kids were loaded into the front seat of the truck for their protection. Tonight, we were lucky once more, we found a massive storage unit that was unlocked, with no dead inside.

We have barricaded the door while we hide out in an empty unit, we scavenged some mattresses and pillows so that we can rest here the night before trying to find food and water tomorrow."

Once more there is a photo of everyone in the unit, the kids sleeping on the bed, adults sitting with guns at the ready.

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

Days pass and your wounds heal, the doctor checks you daily for infection, but he clears you and tells you that you can start doing some light duties around the community. Aaron is waiting outside the doctors for you.

"All clear, I can officially start helping around here now" you say to him as you give him a thumbs up.

"Light duties" The doctor replies from behind you, making Aaron chuckle.

"The stitches will start falling out soon, but we still don't want you breaking them before it fully healed"

"Got it doc, I'll keep an eye on her." Aaron says as you turn to walk away.

"So what is the plan for the day?" You ask Aaron.

"Well, we were going to plan another supply run, Michonne always likes to try and find things that we and the other communities need, we are always looking for beds, clothing, the general things that one needs to live. Each run we have to expand further and further so it takes a lot more planning"

You nod as he talks. "When do you think I could go on runs?" You ask calmly.

"You wanna go on runs? Does that mean you thinking of staying?" 

You shrug, "I mean if the offer still on the table" 

"Of course it is."

"It's the first time since the start I have actually been able to feel safe, been able to sleep without have one eye constantly opened in case of danger. But if I stay, I need to be able to help, not just in the garden but on runs" You explain to him.

"Agreed then, welcome home Y/N" Aaron says as he embraces you in a hug. 

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

Daryl spends almost two months at the Commonwealth, helping everyone there, he takes on jobs fixing cars and bikes for them. He helps them by trying to teach them to hunt, to read the footprints on the ground and how to track animals. 

So, when he gets back on the road, he is happy to be heading home to the Kingdom. He is not the type to settle down in one place to long, but he prefers them over the Commonwealth.

The ride home is long and boring, he pulls over for the night at an abandoned cabin as the rain sets in. The pitter patter hits the windows, while the lantern he has lights up the room he has taken as his for the night.

His legs are sore from being on the bike to long, he stretches them out and massages them, groaning as he works out the knots in his body. He loves his bike but sitting on it for hours on end isn't as easy as it used to be in his youth.

The rain sets in for the night, Daryl settles down and falls asleep to the sound of the drops hitting the cabin's tin roof.

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

Lightning strikes above The Kingdom, the thunder cracking loudly, waking you up from your sleep. The storm was high above the community, lighting brightening up the sky, you watch in awe as it streaks across the sky, followed by the loud thunder.

It was all fine until, lightning struck the big tree next to the fence causing a huge branch to fall down. You quickly get out of bed and grab your weapons, you peek out your window, the rain hitting it heavily, but you are able to make out the dead making their way into the community. 

You quickly run out of your house and head to wake up Ezekial to alert him about the danger.

You reach the house doors and bang on them loudly, waiting for someone to hear you. You look behind you, seeing the dead starting to get closer your bangs get louder and finally Jesus opens the door and you push him inside and slam the door.

"Y/N?" He says, looking at your drenched form. It takes you a moment to catch your breath before responding to Jesus

"We have a breach" You get out starting to feel cold from the rain.

Jesus is quick to wake up the house, Michonne has her katana ready, Aaron and Maggie start handing out guns to those in the residence, you watch as they show no panic just determination to save their community. 

When the last person leaves the house, you grab the last gun from the cabinet, turn a heel and head back out into the cold rain to fight alongside your friends.

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

The first thing Daryl sees when he rides his bike through the gates is the broken fence, the dead walkers on the ground and the small group of people who are working together.

People dragging the dead over to trucks to dispose their bodies. 

Others dragging parts of the tree over to dry out knowing they will be used for firewood.

He jumps off his bike and walks over to Maggie, who is sitting on the ground, her head in her hands, covering her face from the sun.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Storm came through last night, tree got hit and let walkers in."

"The fuck?" Daryl looked at the damage, it would take days to get this branch out of the way and more time to fix the fence.

"Yeah, just our luck, we are going to have to halt runs for now till we fix it, if it hadn't been for Y/N, we would have not known about it till the morning"

The shock on Daryl's face hearing that name was not missed by Maggie.

"Y/N?" He repeats.

"Yeah, the newcomer we almost hit on the road. You know her?" 

He shakes his head, he doesn't know how to explain to Maggie about the journals he has been reading, and he wasn't too sure if you were the same Y/N as the one in the books.

"Nah, don't think I do. Just didn't know her name" He lied, the look on Maggie's face was clear that she didn't believe him, but she didn't push the subject.

 

"She left the safety of her house to come and wake us last night to inform us of the breach, poor girl soaking wet apparently when Jesus opened the door, we are thankful for her doing this, then she joined us in fighting, she hasn't stopped for hours, don't know where she gets the energy." Maggie stands up, wiping the mud from her jeans. Looking over at you as you start sawing the smaller branches off the tree. 

Daryl looks at you, your back to him as you move the saw back and forth. Your covered in Mud and walker blood, the t-shirt your wearing sticking to your body. He watches as Dog runs up to you barking and wagging his tail, Daryl watches as you turn to Dog, you wipe your hair and sweat out of you face and smile at Dog before giving him scratches on his head. He hears you call him a good boy before Dog barks happily, leaving you and running over to Daryl. Daryl can't help but watch as you turn and smile at Dog, your eyes slowing going to his. His gaze locks with yours.

The breath is Daryl halts.

The girl who he has been reading about.

The girl who he has been thinking about.

The girl who he learns more about daily, yet she knows nothing of him.

The girl whose journals he somehow finds.

That girl is right in front of him.