#you all know who this is about I don’t need to explain myself

[thedandeliongarden]

(red text in the following refers to words used in their original / translation context, and I chose red because I ran out of other colours - did the bit I knew more about first)

Yeah tiki is a pretty ridiculous appropriation. Am I understanding correctly that it means something along the lines of “sacred ancestor”? I’m struggling a little because looking it up is… not a fruitful exercise… so I’d like to check I’m understanding correctly.

I can offer a bit more on the topic of mana/mana, since I’m pretty attuned to that (I actually already knew it was a polynesian loanword / import and the guy who did it was scummier than a pond during an algal bloom) that often gets conflated with the biblical story because the siren call of folk linguistics (aka making shit up) is ever-alluring.

Anyways.

I’m a little curious about the term magicka here - as far as I can tell from a cursory search it’s literally only used to mean magical energy in the elder scrolls game(s?), where otherwise it’s a fairly uncommon word that means “a spell or ritual”.

So it’s more correct usage-wise to say magicka is a stand in for mana (in the game sense) than the other way round.

I think the problem you’ll run into arguing that mana should not be used is that it is so entrenched as the word for magical energy, and so far ahead of the competition:

You occasionally see magic points or spell points, but the former is often abbreviated to mp and interpreted as mana points (another common usage) and both are a bit clunky (being 2 words rather than a proper term) and lame if we’re honest (which probably explains mana’s dominance)

I have encountered other setting-specific words, but none of them were particularly memorable or broadly applicable (and often, as with magicka, they’re an incorrect usage of their word).

So the problem you’re going to run into is that the english word for magical energy is mana, and if you want that to change you need to have a better option to replace it with, otherwise you’ll struggle to accomplish anything.

While I’m (obviously?) not polynesian myself, I’m also not sure it needs to change. Magical energy might not be a technically correct translation / use (…I guess you could argue it makes sense for the contemporary concept of a sorcerer, but that’s such a narrow case it’s silly to even bring it up really) but it isn’t exactly unflattering. I can see the case that it’s insulting because it conflates polynesian culture with backwards mysticism but… look, a majority of folks don’t even know the word is originally polynesian, and honestly the type of magic is presented with often positions itself more as being a beacon of civilisation and rational thought

In a very real sense it’s more like a false friend than anything else at this point (and this happens all the time with e.g. french words in english - beef is not the same as bull/cow but is roughly adjacent), and the scumminess of the guy who brought it over doesn’t change that (and arguing that something is bad because the person who made/started/spread it was bad is honestly a bit of a fruitless purity culture pursuit).

Now that I think about it I’m wondering if a more accurate translation of mana would be something like gravitas?

So… yeah. I’d like to hear your thoughts on all that, sorry it’s a bit long!

people will just use polynesian words completely incorrectly with completely made up meanings while being really offensive and won't even care huh lol

[aventurineswife]

Could I request the Astral Express trio (you can choose Stelle or Caelus) with a reader (GN) who is also a member of the Express who is like an older sibling? Reprimanding them when they get hurt, or comforting them when they're upset?

No One is Alone

Summary: Life aboard the Astral Express isn't just about fighting enemies or exploring new worlds—it's also about looking out for each other. As the team's older sibling figure, you take it upon yourself to reprimand Dan Heng and Stelle after they return from a mission injured. Through scolding, comforting, and heartfelt conversations, you remind them that they're part of a team and don't have to face their struggles alone.

Tags: Astral Express Trio x Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Dynamics, GN!Reader, Protective!Reader, Team Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries (non-graphic), Mild guilt/self-blame themes, Emotional vulnerability and introspection.

The hum of the Astral Express filled the air, a comforting backdrop to life aboard the interstellar train. You sat in the lounge, scanning over a datapad while keeping half an ear tuned to the faint commotion from the infirmary. It was a sound you'd become all too familiar with since joining the crew.

Dan Heng and Stelle—recovering from yet another scrape they shouldn't have gotten into.

The infirmary door swished open, and March peeked out, her expression torn between amusement and sympathy. "They're ready for the scolding..." she chirped.

You sighed, setting your datapad aside. Rising to your feet, you felt the weight of your role—neither a fighter nor a strategist, but the de facto big sibling of this unconventional family.

The scene in the infirmary was almost comical. Stelle sat on one of the cots, a bandage around her upper arm, her usual unbothered expression firmly in place. Dan Heng stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, looking stoic despite the gash on his shoulder that hadn't been there when the mission started.

"Care to explain?" you began, arms crossed and gaze level.

"It was just a minor miscalculation." Dan Heng replied calmly.

"A 'minor miscalculation' doesn't leave you bleeding, Dan Heng," you said pointedly, turning to Stelle. "And you—didn't I tell you to call for backup if things went south?"

Stelle gave a sheepish shrug. "I thought we could handle it."

"You thought wrong." You sighed, your tone softening as you crossed the room. Grabbing a chair, you sat between them, your expression gentler now. "I know you're both incredibly capable. But even the best make mistakes. You're part of a team—you don't have to shoulder everything alone."

Dan Heng's gaze flickered to the floor, and Stelle's shoulders slumped slightly.

"You don’t need to push yourself to the point of breaking to prove anything," you added, standing to place a reassuring hand on each of their shoulders. "We're in this together. If something happened to either of you, we’d all feel it. And you’d feel the same if it were March, right?"

Both nodded, though they didn’t meet your gaze.

"Good. Now, promise me you’ll call for help next time."

"Promise." Stelle said, a small smile tugging at her lips. Dan Heng gave a slight nod, his stoic mask cracking just enough for you to catch the faintest hint of guilt.

Later, in the privacy of the archive, you found Dan Heng surrounded by stacks of books. He looked up as you entered, his expression as composed as ever.

"You didn't just come here to read, did you?" you asked, pulling up a chair.

"...No," he admitted after a moment, his voice quiet. "I thought I could avoid putting others at risk by keeping things to myself. I didn’t think about how that might affect the team."

You smiled softly, resting a hand on his. "Dan Heng, you're not a burden. You're not just running from your past anymore—you’re building a future with all of us. And we need you to trust us enough to let us help."

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. "I'll try."

Later that evening, Stelle found you in the lounge, sitting with a warm drink. She plopped down beside you, her usual confidence dimmed by something you couldn’t quite place.

"You were right," she said, uncharacteristically subdued.

"About what?" you asked, setting your drink down.

"About asking for help." She stared at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes. "I’m used to going it alone. But... it’s different with you guys. It’s like, I know you’ve got my back, and that’s scary because now I care. You know?"

You smiled, ruffling her hair like a younger sibling. "That’s not a bad thing, Stelle. Caring means you’re not just surviving anymore—you’re living."

She leaned into your side, her head on your shoulder. "Thanks, big sibling."

"Anytime," you said, wrapping an arm around her. "Just stop scaring me with the near-death experiences, okay?"

"I’ll try." she mumbled, and for now, that was enough.

(yonagi on X)

[ko-existing]

Hello, what do you mean by "direct experience"?

Is it like checking it yourself? I only had that doubt because there are people who say things like that and out of nowhere they say that they already understood all this because they heard something when they sat in silence something like that I think, but my doubt is how people do it (I know what to sit in silence), but do they literally sit in silence? And at that moment do you understand everything? I want to do it but I don't know exactly how to do it

sorry if I couldn't explain myself well

"Direct experience" means seeing things exactly as they are, without relying on secondhand concepts, beliefs, or interpretations. It's not about "doing" something specific, like sitting in silence to trigger an understanding. Those who say they’ve “understood” by sitting quietly may have noticed that in silence, thoughts, stories, and distractions settle, revealing what’s always been present: pure "Awareness" itself.

But here's the key: this is not something "you" "do" to "achieve" anything. You don’t need to sit in silence or follow a method to realize what’s already here. You are always "Awareness" that notices every experience, even right now as you’re reading this. The point of "direct experience" isn’t about finding something new; it’s about seeing clearly that you’ve always been that, regardless of what seems to be happening.

So instead of trying to "do it," just notice—whether you’re sitting, walking, or thinking—that every experience arises within you, the "Awareness". That’s it. There’s nothing to force or attain, only to see clearly.

[asrielinfected]

New Victim

Paring: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Enid tells you about a new student that arrived to nevermore. You can’t help, but tease Wednesday, to get a reaction out of her.

Warning: Profanity

Authors note: Reader kinda likes to tease people, and I haven’t watched this show since 2022🤕

Enid(your bestfriend), and you were currently eating lunch together. You listened to Enid as she spoke about her new, odd, roommate called, Wednesday Addams.

“So, Y/N! I have this new roomie, and well, she’s quite interesting if I do say so myself,” Enid chuckled as she took another bite out of her lunch.

“What do you mean by “interesting” Enid?” You said as you made quotation marks in the air.

Enid sallowed the bite she was chewing on, and looked at you. “I mean, she’s not ordinary. And there absolutely nothing wrong with that! We all aren’t ordinary, but she’s just different in some type of way.”

You listened intently, “I somewhat understand. No need to explain any further. Also speaking of Wednesday, where is she? It’s lunch time”

“She’s probably in her dorm! She always eats in there.”

You smirked deviously

“You know what would be funny?

Enid smirked along with you

“Y/N, whatever you’re planning I’m all in for it.”

Enid was like your partner in crime.

“I should totally go and annoy, Addams!”

Enid’s smile slightly faded. “You sure that’s a good idea? Wends, is kinda intimidating,”

You rolled your eyes at your friend’s statement, “How bad can it be? Your roommate might need some company, don’t you think?”

Enid sighed “Yeah, Y/N, I’m not so sure about this.”

“Finee. I guess I’ll just do it by myself. Have fun talking to Yoko, or Ajax, or something,” You said as you got off of her seat and threw away your trash as you headed to, Ophelia Hall.

You already knew where Enid’s dorm was since you been there before, but you never had met this “Wednesday Addams” before.

You finally arrived in front of the door room. You took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

You were met with a room clearly decorated differently since the last time you been here.

You saw a short girl with braided pigtails, sitting at the black side of the room. You can’t really tell what she’s doing, but she didn’t even care to look of who just walked in.

“What is it exactly that you want.”

Wow. Enid wasn’t kidding. She was intimidating. Her voice sent shivers down your spine, but you talked to people like this. You can handle it!

“Ah, you must be the ‘Wednesday Addams’ everybody’s talking about. I’m-”

Wednesday cut you off, “I didn’t ask for a whole speech. You are yet to respond to my question.” She said with a cold voice

This bitch. How rude.

“Okay, asshole. To answer your question that you so much wanted, I was only here to be nice, and welcome you. At least I’m not the one isolating myself.”

Wednesday finally turned to look at you.

“Was your use of profanity really necessary. I also wouldn’t call it “isolating.” I prefer to be alone.”

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah whatever makes you sleep at night.”

“Actually having thoughts of people suffering makes me sleep at night. I find it quite calming,” Wednesday said without any hesitation.

Okay now you fully understand what Enid meant by, “not ordinary roommate.”

“Thanks for oversharing that even though I didn’t ask for it.”

Wednesday turned back around to her desk, and there was silence for a few minutes.

The smirk you had before when talking to Enid came back.

“You’re quite interesting, Addams. Also quite the cute one too.”

Wednesday looked back at you with an confused expression

“Was that your attempt to try, and flirt?”

You giggled as your eyes never left hers, “Perhaps. Is it working?”

She groaned out of annoyance, and got up from her chair as she stood closer to you.

“You think too low of me. Why is it your mission to go bother me.”

You took a step closer to Wednesday Addams.

“I just find teasing someone like you, entertaining.”

Wednesday would be lying if she said that the proximity of yours faces didn’t make her whole entire body turn hot.

She was usually cold

Lunch time ended some time ago so Enid walked into the room. Seeing you and Wednesday standing close to each other.

You with your signature grin and Wednesday having always that icy expression on her face.

“Guys? Is everything alright?” Enid said tilting her head.

You both went ahead and turned your heads to Enid.

You decided to speak first, “Yeah I was just heading out. I’ll catch you later, Enid and Wednesday”

You looked at Wednesday, and had a grin on your face as you left their dorm to head back to yours.

Wednesday couldn’t help but walk back over to the desk and finish whatever she was doing before she got interrupted by you.

But unfortunately, you didn’t leave her mind. Why would you even want to tease her like that. Did you not find her scary like other students do?

Feelings are Wednesday’s worst enemy.

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Nine

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warnings: Violence, bloodshed, injuries, Premeditated murder on the brain (Female Reader), swearing.

Words: 756

Note: Sorry for a short one. Wanted to get this one out. Next one will be longer I promise.

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

Supernatural AU — Poem

Credit for Dividers:@cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? That I have fallen for a lie. You were never on my side.  Fool me once, fool me twice. Are you death or paradise?

Was I the problem? Did I do something to make you hate me so much? 

Why didn’t you just leave me instead of lying so many times to my face?

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to anybody else? 

I hope you rot in this hell you have made yourself. It’s my last gift I will give to you.

You knew how my life was before I met you. Yet you still did this to me. 

Cold. Calculated. That is all you will ever be.

If I had the power to curse you. I would have done it long ago. 

Once I leave this house, this country all over again. Do yourself a favour. Stay away from me.

Stay far, far away from me.

Otherwise, I can and most absolutely will kill you myself.

If you wish to keep your life.

Stay in your country and I will stay in mine.

I don’t want to be pushed into a corner. But you keep being adamant on doing so.

Don’t blame me when I bite you. Blame yourself for ignoring the warning signs.

You are the reason we are no longer married. Take accountability for your actions and shut the fuck up. 

König. You still don’t know if that’s his actual name or just simply a call sign. He never told you either way. 

But what does it matter? 

The man who had once been the epitome of comfort and support in your life had become a shadow of his former self. The trust that had once been as solid as steel between you had been shattered into a million pieces.

Leaving a gaping chasm of doubt and anger in its place. 

The coldness in his eyes, the way he looked at you now, it was like you were nothing but a stranger to him. 

Someone who had merely crossed his path at the wrong time.

"I will leave, and you won't see me again." you snarl, getting up to get your things.

König remains seated, his expression unreadable. "Reaper, I know you're upset, but we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You chose to cheat. You made that choice. Suffer the consequences. I'm not the one who needs to explain anything. You're the one who broke our vows.” 

“My life is in my hands. I will not become who you are.” You told him. Your knuckles turning white from the way you turned your hands into fists. You were so tired of the kind of excuses coming from the mouths of men who neither cared nor wanted you around. 

You weren’t going to let König know you again. To choose death than suffer through his presence a second time. It made so much sense to you. You do enough talk. What did you learn from your mistakes? Did you even learn from them at all? 

If he can’t see it. May he drown inside his endless well of pitiful tears. 

You are not his wife, his friend, his punching bag. The call sign ‘Grim Reaper’? You earned it for a reason. Too bad he’s too blind to see it. 

What has eyes but cannot see? 

Escape.

Escape and run faster than he can hope to catch up. 

If he can’t take the hint, then…..you would have to kill him yourself.

Can’t be too hard to kill a six-foot ten adult man, right?

You can hear the shouting between him and his girlfriend. A sickening, twisted grin spreads across your face. Sweet revenge for the child you lost years ago.  Weight began to lift from your shoulders. It wasn’t over by a long shot. But now you know how to twist the knife to get what you wanted in order to leave. 

To head back home where you felt like you belonged completely. 

Home. Your home. 

The one where you don’t have to hide from broken bottles, yelling, shouting, endless need to feel like you have to explain yourself. 

Could it still be there when you go back? Will it still be there now?

[thedaselcor]

Tiwasday, the 4th of October, 522

Will’s eyes traced slowly along the curves of Merlin’s body as he got dressed, pausing to watch Merlin lace the two sides of his undershirt tighter, and tighter.

“Why bother with all that? If you can change it with magic, I mean.”

“It’s just a backup,” Merlin explained, casting a soft glance and warm smile over his shoulder at Will before bringing his attention back to the mirror. “In case anything happens, I like to make sure I look as close to the same as possible without the magic.”

“In case what kind of anything happens? Do you go around falling unconscious a lot when I’m not looking?”

“Aren't you always looking?” Merlin teased, before adding, “it’s not really in case of anything, I just want to look as much like myself as possible. So,I keep my hair the same, I build the muscles, I wear the undershirt, and I only make subtle changes to my face no one but you and my mother would ever even notice… in case. ”

ɱ

It had seemed foolproof, back in Ealdor. Merlin had known who he was young enough that he’d been able to grow into his system without anyone really knowing. He changed little enough about his appearance with magic that someone would need to be exceptionally close, and pay exceptional attention to his face and general appearance to ever notice a change,even if the magic did fail him someday, somehow. 

Later that month, when Merlin’s mother sent him to Camelot, it seemed his secret was even safer. In Camelot he was going to be even more of a nobody, a physician's apprentice. Who would pay that close attention to a nobody ? Who in Camelot could possibly know his face well enough to notice the subtle changes if he was somehow rendered unconscious?

To Merlin’s credit, Arthur didn't notice the first few times. They’d actually known each other well over a year when the inevitable day finally came. 

Frigsday, the 29th of Martius, 524

Arthur burst into Gaius’s workshop, carrying Merlin, unconscious, in his arms. The storm raging inside him entirely overshadowed the practically apocalyptic storm of rain and lightning outside.

“He’s been stabbed. Poisoned, I think,” Arthur declared, panic beginning to creep into his voice as he neared the end of the clear series of actions he’d known he had to take to save Merlin. Action had always been easy for Arthur. The rest… not so much.

Gaius indicated Merlin’s room with a slight nod and a serious eyebrow, as he sprung into action and gathered the necessary medical supplies. Arthur followed the direction. Once he’d laid Merlin down he removed his shirt and cut the bottom of his undershirt to expose the quickly festering stab wound on his side. Then, he sat back, perched in worry but letting Gaius work.

ɱ

“I don’t think anyone else saw…” Arthur said, once Merlin seemed relatively stable, partly to Gaius, and partly to the empty space in front of him just to process the shock. “Anything interesting I mean, anything…” He sighed heavily before adding, “my father can never know about this.”

Gaius nodded, solemnly. “Not if you want Merlin to live, no,” he answered after a long pause. 

It was a testament to Gaius’s character that he didn’t bother to mention his own life also hung in the balance. Gaius had chosen to be so entirely devoted to Merlin’s care and protection since Hunith had sent the young sorcerer to him that his own part in the equation had long since lost all relevance. 

Arthur was acutely aware that he’d just made a very similar choice by bringing Merlin to Gaius for treatment, by choosing this of all possible paths. And yet, he couldn’t regret it, regardless of the legal and filial weight of his choice.

ɱ

Arthur sat with Merlin until dawn broke over Camelot, never sleeping, but he could stay no longer. For one thing, his duty as a prince had to come first, despite his world altering decision. For another, if he was absent much longer it would cause a panic, and a panic would bring nothing but pain down on Merlin and Gaius.

“If he wakes…when he wakes,”Arthur started, as he bid Gaius goodbye--but he couldn’t bring himself to actually form the feelings into words. Instead, he let out a sigh and settled on “I’ll have a list of duties ready for him, when he’s well.” Like the story so far? Check it out on Ao3!

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Heyy Nausicaa!!

I love all of your fics, you're an amazing writer!

So, could you do a fic about mop era James hetfield and the reader? They r best friends and the reader gets a bf and James doesn't like him bc he's toxic but the reader doens't see him as toxic. They get in a fight outside the bar she told James about her bf and James is drunk telling the reader how he could be a better bf than her current bf is. The fight ends when the reader starts walking to her bf's house and James runs to her bc he doens't want her to go there. Soo they walk to james' apartment. At the apartment James agrees to sleep on the couch so the reader coul sleep in his room. They go to sleep but James can't sleep so he sneaks in his bedroom where the reader is sleeping and lays next to her and cuddles her. The next morning they wake up in each others arms and the reader finally comes to her senses about her current bf that he's toxic. Then she breaks up with him over the phone. James is real happy and then they cuddle some more and then... Suprise suprise they get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 😏🤭

Thank you so much, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mature themes, sexual content, emotional intensity, toxic relationship,

Breaking Through

James Hetfield had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We’d been through it all together—the wild nights, the heavy conversations, the laughter, and even the silence that spoke louder than words. Our friendship had always been easy, natural, and unspoken in a way that felt comfortable. We didn’t need to say it, but we both knew we’d always have each other’s backs.

And then there was him. My boyfriend.

It started innocently enough, just a guy who caught my attention. At first, he seemed perfect—charming, funny, easygoing. We fit together, or so I thought. But James hated him. And that wasn’t something I was used to. James wasn’t a guy who hated easily. If anything, he gave people the benefit of the doubt. But not this guy. And at first, I didn’t get it. I thought he was just being overprotective. But the more I ignored his warnings, the more I started to feel it in my gut—something wasn’t right.

I should’ve listened to him.

Tonight, the tension had reached a breaking point. I found myself outside a bar, feeling a little too buzzed from the drinks I’d had, standing in front of James, ready to tell him everything about the latest drama in my relationship. I thought I could keep it casual, tell him I was fine, but James had other plans.

We stood under the glow of the streetlight, the night air crisp against my skin. James leaned against the brick wall of the bar, cigarette in hand, but he wasn’t smoking. He was just looking at me with those blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

“Hey,” I said, trying to break the silence.

“Hey,” he replied, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. His gaze didn’t leave me. “What’s going on? You look... off.”

I shrugged, playing it off. “Just the usual stuff. My boyfriend’s being weird, but you know, it’s fine.”

James pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re not fine, Y/N. I can see it. You’re not fine.”

I froze. There it was again—his ability to see straight through me. He always had it, but tonight, it hit differently.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to mask the nerves in my voice.

“Don’t lie to me,” James said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m your friend. I know when something’s wrong.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’re with him, but you’re not happy. Why are you staying in something that’s pulling you down?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. How could I explain it to him? How could I tell him that I didn’t want to face the truth? That maybe, just maybe, he was right?

“Y/N,” James continued, stepping closer again, his voice lower now, “You deserve better than this guy. He doesn’t care about you the way you think he does. I can see it, and you can too, if you’d just let yourself.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “You don’t know him like I do, James. He’s not perfect, but he’s mine.”

James took a sharp breath. His expression was tight now, frustrated. “That’s the problem, Y/N. He’s dragging you down. And you deserve better than this. I care about you more than he ever will, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you get hurt.”

His words landed like a slap, but they weren’t angry—just raw. And for the first time, I realized just how much he really meant it. This wasn’t about him wanting me for himself—this was about him wanting me to be happy, wanting me to be free from something that was suffocating me.

I stepped back, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My heart pounded, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

“You know I’m right,” James said quietly. “I could be a better boyfriend to you than he ever could.”

My breath caught. Was he serious? He had always been there for me—sure, he’d always been my friend—but this was different. This was… something else.

“James…” My voice faltered. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But James shook his head, a frustrated, pained expression crossing his face. “I’m not drunk, Y/N. I’m not. I’m just telling you what I see. And what I see is you settling for someone who doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

I felt a sharp sting in my chest, my mind reeling. I had no idea how to respond, so instead of saying anything, I just turned away. The cold night air hit my face as I started walking, desperate to get away from the conversation, away from everything.

But James wasn’t having it. “Where are you going?” he called after me, his voice urgent.

I didn’t answer, just kept walking in the direction of my boyfriend’s house.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” he said, his footsteps loud behind me. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I felt my frustration rise. “I’m fine, James. I’m going to him. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said, voice firm. “You’re my best friend. I care about you more than anything, and I won’t just stand by and watch you walk into a situation that’s gonna hurt you. I’m not letting you go there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to process the weight of his words. Everything inside me wanted to keep going, to ignore what he was saying, but a part of me was scared. Scared of what I was doing, scared of what James was saying.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking a little. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I stopped walking, my body trembling with the weight of everything. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared of the relationship I was in, scared of how tangled I had gotten in something that wasn’t good for me.

I turned around slowly, looking at James. He was standing a few feet behind me, his hands clenched at his sides, his expression softening. For the first time in a long time, I saw it. The care, the love, the pure concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t go.”

James exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Without a word, he started walking toward me. “I’ll take you back to my place. We’ll talk it through. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

When we reached his apartment, James didn’t push. He just opened the door and let me step inside. The familiarity of the space, the comfort of it, felt strange in the best way. I was used to this place, but tonight, it felt different.

“You can sleep in my room,” James said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll take the couch. I won’t push you to talk if you don’t want to.”

I nodded, too emotionally drained to protest. I needed space, but I also needed comfort. I slipped into his room, wrapping myself in the warmth of his bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Eventually, I felt the bed shift. A warmth spread beside me, and I froze. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was—James, his face relaxed as he laid down beside me, his arm gently around my waist.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to. It felt right. It felt safe. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and let myself rest, my mind swirling with everything that had happened, but somehow feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the window. I turned over slowly, and there he was—James, still holding me close, his arm wrapped around me protectively. For a moment, I just lay there, taking in the peacefulness of the moment.

I didn’t know how to put it into words, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. My relationship had been toxic. I had known about it for a while, but I hadn’t wanted to face it. Now, with James here, so close, so real, I finally understood.

I reached for the phone and dialed my boyfriend’s number.

When he answered, I didn’t hesitate. “It’s over,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m done.”

 The phone call had ended, but the weight of my past relationship still hung in the air like a fog. I felt lighter, yes, but also raw—exposed in a way I hadn’t been before. And there James was, standing close, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity in his eyes seemed to say everything, everything I hadn’t been able to put into words. At that moment, I didn’t need words.

His arms pulled me close, his chest rising and falling against mine as he held me tightly. His warmth was intoxicating, grounding me. And with every breath I took, I felt a part of me slip away—the burdens, the doubts. But what remained? That unmistakable pull between us.

“You don’t have to carry that anymore, Y/N,” James murmured into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers trailed gently down my back, soothing and steady.

I nodded, the words a comfort, even though they didn’t fully capture everything I was feeling. The relief was there, but there was also something else—a deep, almost dizzying awareness of him. The way his body felt against mine, the heat that seemed to radiate from him, pulling me in closer with every passing second.

And then, without thinking, I tilted my head up, closing the distance between us, and kissed him.

It started slow, tentative, as if we were both testing the waters. His lips were soft, but there was an urgency behind them, a hunger that matched mine. I felt myself melting into him, responding with equal intensity. His hands found their way to my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My body pressed flush against his, and I could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his skin, the solidness of his muscles. It sent a shock of electricity through me.

When we pulled back, James stood before me, his eyes locked on mine, a question lingering in his gaze.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he’s giving me room to decide.

I smile, my heart racing a little faster with the closeness between us. “You’re not,” I reply softly, taking a step toward him. My fingers hover over the collar of his shirt, and I slowly unbutton the first one, the motion deliberate. Each button undone feels like the quiet shedding of a barrier between us, a promise that we’re both ready for this.

His eyes follow my hands as I slowly remove his shirt, the fabric sliding off his shoulders and falling to the floor. There’s a moment where we just stand there, looking at each other, as if taking in the enormity of what’s happening.

I reach for the hem of my own shirt, pulling it off slowly, the cool air against my skin sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his gaze on me, warm and searching, but there’s no judgment. Just a deep, unspoken understanding between us.

James steps closer, his hand brushing against my bare skin as he tugs gently at the waistband of my jeans. He pauses for a moment, looking at me, asking for permission with just the look in his eyes. I nod, my hands moving to help him, pushing the jeans down over my hips.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor fills the room, and for a moment, there’s nothing else but the warmth of his body just inches away, the air heavy with anticipation. His hands move to my back, slowly undoing the clasp of my bra, his fingers light but sure. I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach, but they quickly settle as he brushes the straps off my shoulders. We’re moving slowly, methodically, as if neither of us wants to rush this moment.

I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart under my fingertips as I trace the lines of his body. I can feel the heat between us, the way our bodies naturally gravitate toward one another. The last of his clothes fall to the floor, and we’re both standing there, exposed to one another, the air thick with something deeper than just desire.

He pulls me close, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss, a slow exploration that speaks more than words ever could. I press closer, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles shift as he moves.

Slowly, I guide him toward the bed, crawling beneath the soft covers, my heart racing as I feel the weight of him beside me. He follows, his body pressing against mine in the most comforting way. The warmth of his skin against mine feels like the world stopping, like everything has led to this moment.

 The room is warm, the air thick with the heat of our bodies pressed together. James hovers just above me, his chest rising and falling quickly, and I can feel his presence in every part of me. His body against mine is a perfect weight, pressing me into the soft sheets, and I can’t help but respond to every tiny shift of his.

His gaze locks with mine, dark and intense, and his lips are just inches from my neck. There’s a brief pause as he takes in the moment, making sure I’m comfortable, his fingers brushing over my skin as he adjusts himself, moving just a little closer. His breath falters, and I feel the subtle tension in him.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he shifts—his body fitting against mine, his breath hot against my skin as he thrusts, just enough to send a wave of heat through me. The feeling is intense, unexpected, and before I can even catch my breath, a soft moan escapes my lips, my body reacting to him instinctively.

James freezes for a split second, his breath shaky, eyes searching mine. His hands move to my waist, guiding me gently as he shifts again, adjusting himself to settle into a rhythm that feels even better, deeper. He looks down at me, and I can see the flicker of desire in his eyes, the way he’s trying to hold back, but can’t help but let his body respond to mine.

“You okay?” His voice is strained, barely above a whisper, and I feel the weight of his concern, the tenderness in his touch.

I nod, my voice barely audible, “Yes…” My fingers dig into his shoulders as I pull him closer, urging him to keep going, to keep moving.

James moves again, this time just a little deeper, his breath coming quicker as he adjusts, finding that perfect place where we’re both completely connected. My body reacts, my muscles tightening as I gasp softly, a quiet moan escaping my lips at the sensation.

His breathing becomes faster, more ragged, and I can feel him trembling slightly as he moves again, his hips shifting in perfect rhythm with mine. Every motion, every touch feels like it’s pulling us deeper, and I feel every inch of him, the way his body presses into mine, the way his hands hold me gently yet firmly.

I let out another soft moan, louder this time, unable to hold it back. My body arches up to meet him, my fingers digging into his back as he moves in a slow, deliberate rhythm, deepening the connection between us with each shift. His breath is hot against my neck, his chest pressing against mine, and the sensation is overwhelming, making my heart race even faster.

His voice is low, strained as he leans in, brushing his lips across my jawline. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire, and I feel a jolt of warmth race through me at the sound of it.

I pull him closer, my hands tangling in his hair, as my body responds to him with every slow, deep thrust. The pressure inside me builds, every shift of his body sending waves of pleasure through me. And with each movement, I can hear the soft gasps and moans slipping from my lips, the sound of our breathing quickening as we move together in perfect sync.

I can feel him tremble slightly as he adjusts again, his movements becoming more deliberate, more urgent. He shifts again, deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes me, my voice breaking slightly as my body reacts to him, the intensity building between us.

“James…” I gasp, barely able to get his name out, and my hands tighten around him as the tension inside me becomes almost unbearable. The way he moves, the way he adjusts to match me, brings us closer, and I feel myself getting closer to the edge with each thrust, each movement.

And then, as the pressure inside me reaches its peak, I let out a soft cry, my body shuddering as I reach that moment, that release. James follows closely behind, his breath shaky as he moves with me, his hands gentle on my skin, holding me close as we both come undone.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing heavily, our bodies still connected, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. His forehead rests against mine, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, a steady reminder that we’re both here, together.

He brushes his lips over my forehead, a tender, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?” he asks again, his voice soft, almost a whisper now.

I smile softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his back as I nod, my voice breathless. “Perfect.”

James pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me as we lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. The world outside seems so far away now, and all that matters is the gentle rise and fall of our chests, the warmth of his body next to mine, and the quiet peace we’ve found in each other.

But then, just as the last remnants of the moment linger between us, James lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine with a new intensity. His thumb gently strokes my cheek, and his voice drops to a hushed whisper.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he says softly, the words full of promise, raw with emotion. “And I won’t ever let anyone harm you. Not now, not ever. You’re safe with me.”

His lips meet mine in a slow, lingering kiss—full of tenderness, full of everything he’s just spoken. And in that kiss, I feel the truth of his words, the depth of his emotions, and a quiet certainty that nothing could ever take this from us.

As the kiss ends, I whisper softly, my voice full of gratitude, “Thank you, Jamie…”

He smiles against my lips, the warmth of it reaching all the way to my heart. His hand rests on my cheek for a moment, then moves to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Slowly, he lowers his head, resting it on my chest, his body curling into mine.

I run my fingers through his hair, gently stroking it, savoring the quiet peace between us. The sound of his breathing slows, becoming steady and calm as I hold him close, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still, just us—together.

[house-of-naga]

Fellas….

Is it gay to move in with ur bandmate, call yourself his boyfriend, and also constantly mention that you’re generally happier, healthier, and sleeping better since you did?

[dykedvonte]

I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?

-💀

I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.

I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.

I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.

The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.

It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.

[whenthegoldrays]

overthinking … nooo ……

[pepprs]

STILL wide awake! i did not put down my phone! and now im hungry. so i will not be sleeping tonight ♥️

[agents-are-dicks]

Me being a bitch (waayyy more drama in tags):

Decided to stop all the petty shit and actually text my cousin to explain things and have an actual conversation and the bitch laughed at me so I’m officially done with her royal highness

[bfpierce]

.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?