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#like it is better yes I get it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t an adjustment
grimm-writings · 1 day
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can i request chil eavesdropping on reader telling marcille about their crush, and getting jealous because he doesn’t realise that it’s him?
distant
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…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader
…tags! fluff, miscommunication, marcille being a gossip and izutsumi being petty
…wc! 613
…notes! making this short and sweet. hope you enjoy!! 
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Even with Chilchuck’s enhanced hearing, it’s difficult to miss Marcille’s loud gasps of shock whenever she hears anything that strikes her very core.  You and the elf like to take the chance to gossip with one another when the day comes to a close.  Chilchuck personally doesn’t get it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t tune in occasionally to something that catches his attention.
With a lowered voice, “actually,” you say, “I have something to admit…”
“Yes?” Marcille matches your volume.  Anyone else probably wouldn’t be able to listen in easily, all except Chilchuck.  What could even be so interesting that you can only discuss it this way Marcille?
“I think…  No, I know for certain I caught feelings for him,” you whisper with a dejected sigh.
Chilchuck freezes in place as he was helping clean plates from the past meal.  Izutsumi, who was joining him, spared him a glance.  Noticing this, Chilchuck quietly apologises and continues the routine.
…Izutsumi’s foul stare doesn’t stop him from listening in on the conversation more.
“Really?”  Marcille whispers, though with her excitement in tow it makes her voice sound shrill, which makes Chilchuck flinch slightly.  “You figured it out?”
“Yeah,” you respond with a sigh.  “Don’t think he likes me back– it’s like he’s giving me the cold shoulder.”
What?  Someone would be stupid enough to be cruel to you?  But you’re so sweet!  Even observing from a distance, Chilchuck has formed a bit of a soft spot for you.  He doesn’t get too close, out of his own rule of not forming interpersonal relationships.
He’d have to give that guy a piece of his mind…
“Ah, but he’s actually really sweet once you peel back the layers, you know?”  You continue, confusing Chilchuck further.  “He can be so soft, so gentle… But once he realises what he’s doing, he withdraws.  He’s so distant.”
“So he’s sending mixed signals?”  Marcille confirms.
“Mhm…”
A nasty twinge of jealousy twists in Chilchuck’s chest.  Not like he isn’t used to it when it comes to you before.  You really care for this guy?  And he’s not even being clear with what he wants?  Ugh, if only he could see him face to face!
Wait… Could it be someone like Laios?  Or Senshi?  Laios can be a little out of the loop when it comes to communication… and he wouldn’t doubt anyone would be somewhat enamoured with Senshi’s ability to care for someone.
Fixating on relationships is not what Chilchuck tends to do, but if it’s you, he wants the best for you.  He really does, but…
“Oh my God, are you stupid?”
Izutsumi’s voice breaks Chilchuck out of his thoughts, looking up at the younger girl.  Her own ear twitches, indicating she also heard the conversation.  “They’re obviously talking about you.”
Chilchuck flushes.  “What–”
“And you mock me for not being self-aware.”
“I’m not even that–!”
“Gentle?”  Izutsumi scoffs.  “Says the guy who tenderly carved a woodwork ornament for them.  Get real.”
Embarrassment fills Chilchuck up and out of his ears, opening his mouth and closing it cluelessly.  “...I’m not doing anything about it.”
“And let them believe you don’t like them at all?  Sure, go for it.”
Chilchuck purses his lips hesitantly, putting the plate away.  “If they want to confess, they will…  I won’t leave them distant.”
Izutsumi only stares with little amusement.  Relationships are her bane, but not in the way Chilchuck holds disdain for them.  They make people stupid, like how Chilchuck and you are.  She sighs wearily, finishing up the chore and returning to where she was relaxing.
You two better get over yourselves fast, if not for your own sakes, then for hers.
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yourheart-inmyhands · 4 hours
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I just read the Blade with scared reader fic, could you possibly do that with Dan Heng too?
yes i sure can :D this was pretty fun to write! i feel like i don't get a lot of request for dan heng himself so it was a nice change! usually people request imbibitor lol :3
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Warning: this post contains yandere-themes including, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of being held against ones will, mentions of force-feeding, mentions of being manhandled, mentions of feed tubes, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!
Dan Heng is, reasonably, upset over it. He’s worried about your health, skipping meals and missing sleep takes a toll on people, physically and mentally. It gets to the point where he starts drugging you to ensure you sleep. And while he isn’t exactly keen on force-feeding you, he compromises by giving you just enough to weaken you, make you more pliant, and then persuading you to eat.
He doesn’t like to be physically forceful, he knows you’re still going through the shock of being brought on to the Astral Express unwillingly and being kept there against your will. Himeko and Welt said you’d get over it soon, that you just needed time to adjust, but at this rate, you’d render yourself comatose before anything else,
Dan Heng is forceful with you, but still in a gentle way. He feels bad about manhandling you into the bathroom, but once you’re inside he lets you remove your own clothes and shower at your own will. He isn’t going to stand there and watch, he wants you to know that he still cares. The most forceful he gets is cuddling at night. He doesn’t need much, but he does like to have some part of himself touching you. It helps him sleep better, knowing you’re there and that you’re his. 
“Please, I- you haven’t eaten all week. Just… just take a few bites, you need to eat something.” Dan Heng pleads softly with you, hands nudging the plate of food back towards you. This had been going on for a few minutes now, with you pushing the plate back towards him, refusing the food. He didn’t want to have to drug you again, he already felt awful enough for having to do so last week, but you were still refusing to eat. Dan Heng wasn’t going to sit around and watch you waste away, but he still wanted you to know that you had this choice. That not everything had to be done the hard way.
Because of your resistance to food, you’re on a soft foods and liquids diet for a while, stuff that’s easy to feed you when you’re barely conscious. When you start opening up and eating more on your own, Dan Heng slowly begins to reintroduce other foods. Most of it he cooks himself, wanting to make sure it was perfect for you. It warms his heart to see you willingly eating it.
If you should never grow accustomed to him and staying with him, Dan Heng is not entirely against the idea of giving you a feeding tube. It’s a last resort kind of thing, something that would take well over a year to build to, but when it’s brought up as a possible solution, he starts to think on it more. It would make feeding you easier and it means you’d have to be drugged less, but it comes with the added problem of ensuring you don’t rip it out. Regardless, he will pursue that path if you should continue to be difficult with him.
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captainnameless · 1 day
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thank you so much for replying!!! i’m the anon who was asking about is Lewis more strict or a bit of a pushover! honestly i have to say i adore Lewis with little danny (i just love how cute little danny is) or little george, i just think it’s so cute 😭😭😭 but tbh any of the littles are perfect- lewis just fits so well with all of them. i dunno lewis being more strict, maybe one of the littles has been pushing his buttons all day or something but idk, completly up to you!! hope your days going good 🫶🫶🫶
Lewis wonders briefly if it’s barbaric to put Daniel in a time out, a child so full of energy forced to sit out a punishment quietly should mean it’s effective but it doesn’t make him feel any better watching Daniel squirm in place.
He likes being the fun uncle, and Daniel’s generally such a good kid. A handful, sure. Mischievous but just the right amount for it to still be cute. The disciplinary aspect doesn’t come into play all too often, both parties usually keen to avoid it. But he doesn’t want to hand all of it off to Sebastian either. Feels it a bit too housewife-y to pull a “Just wait until your father gets home” or, Mama gets home, he supposes. Even if Sebastian handles it better, makes it look easier. Isn’t swayed by puppy dog eyes nor afraid to swat some bums.
His eyes land on the discarded toy cars, aids to the naughtiness that landed his boy in a time out in the first place. Daniel suddenly deciding that throwing the cars made them even faster than racing with them, not really calculating that plastic cars do not bounce off of TVs. They break them.
It’s not so much the material value, more the several warnings and redirection Lewis had offered that Daniel had ignored that were the deciding factor.
The timer going off pulls him from his thoughts and immediately Daniel’s spun around rubbing at his wet eyes. “All done?”
Lewis moves closer, gently pulls Daniel into his space. “Do you know why you were in a time out?”
The question pulls a whine from the younger, scrunching his face up. “Yes.”
“Can you tell me?”
More whining. “No.”
“Daniel,” Lewis sighs gently, finding Daniel’s wrist and pressing his thumb into the soft skin trying to ground him. “Can you tell me please? Or do you need to think some more?”
“No think,” Daniel rushes, pulling at his wrist. “I’m not allowed to throw, you told me a lot.”
“Right, cause you can hurt yourself, or Lew, or our things. If I tell you something I expect you to listen, okay?”
“Okay.” Daniel whines, successfully tugging his wrist out. “All done?” He questions again.
“You’ll be all done once you clean up the cars, alright? We can play something else.” Lewis says, the wrong thing apparently.
“No!” Daniel whines, one of his feet stomping down. “I wanted to play cars.”
“I know you did, but I’m saying no. We can try the cars again tomorrow. Do you want me to help you clean them up? We can do a puzzle after.”
They’re dangerously close to a tantrum, if the “Ungh!” that leaves Daniel’s body is anything to go of. Still, Daniel goes to collect the cars that are on the floor, scoops them up and then unceremoniously throws them into their container.
“Daniel Joseph!” Lewis scolds, a little exasperated. “We do not throw.”
Daniel just pouts, defiance clear on his face that wipes right off when Lewis finds his arm and starts marching them towards the stairs.
“No!” Daniel protests, unsuccessfully trying to stop them from going up them. “I don’t want to go to bed.”
Lewis ignores it, debates wrestling Daniel into a shower but decides against it, going straight for the bedroom instead.
Daniel’s defiance has melted away into just tears, a sob leaving him as Lewis sits him down onto the bed, flopping himself backwards as his socks are taken off. “Noooo.”
“I know, bub.” Lewis soothes, making quick work of changing Daniel into something more suitable for bed. The tears definitely don’t lessen, and Daniel’s face is red and blotchy when he’s finished.
Lewis isn’t a total prick, he’s not going to put Daniel to bed like this, gently pulls the boy up and tugs the wobbly Australian into his chest and into the rocking chair Sebastian likes to ridicule him for.
“You’re ok.” Lewis says softly, bringing his hand to the back of Daniel’s neck and scratching the hair there, allowing Daniel to hide into his chest.
They rock like that for a while, until Daniel’s breathing evens out a bit and his shoulders stop shaking.
“I’m sorry.” Daniel whispers, fingers curling into Lewis’ jumper. “I’m sorry. Don’t tell Mama.”
“Mama’s not gonna love you any less if you’ve had a bit of a hard day.” Lewis soothes, brushing at the tear streaks. “Just like I don’t love you any less.”
“Okay,” Daniel breathes, sniffling. “I don’t want to go to bed.”
There’s a soft smile that Lewis can’t suppress. “I know, poppet. I’m afraid that’s not up for debate though. I know a very tired boy when I see one, we’ll have plenty of time to play tomorrow.”
It earns him a pout, Lewis pokes it and presses a kiss to Daniel’s nose. “How about you go and pick out a book for us to read? If you’re quick, we might be able to read two.”
It’s enough of an incentive to have Daniel slide out of his lap and scurry over to the bookshelf, pulling out two books. “I was quick!”
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rinbowaman · 2 days
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how would both heethan and heelel react to y/n saying "i'm not scared of you anymore"
Ooooh anon.
To put it simply, heethan wouldn’t really care so much about bc he actually isn’t trying to scare you, it just so happens he does at times. He wants you to be comfortable around him, and respect his rules (which pretty much leaves you in isolation). So if you were to tell him when he is not angry or irritated, he’d be fine with it. NOW…let’s say you broke one of his rules…and he gets angry…
“Who was it? Who sent that text to you?”
“I-it…it’s a classmate. They were only asking to meet up so I could help them with the homework assignment.”
“Did I not make it fucking clear that NO ONE talks to you?”
“But…it’s for school Heeseung—“
“And that suddenly makes it better?”
“He-Heeseung please.”
“Come here.”
You take your steps closer when he suddenly stops you. “No. Fucking crawl.”
“W-what?”
“I SAID FUCKING CRAWL.”
You crawl in all fours, beginning to sob. Once you come within reach he grabs your chin and tilts it upwards to face him directly. “You told me earlier that you’re not scared of me, right?”
A shiver crawls up your spine. “Y-yes…”
You answer to confirm but you’re not entirely sure if that was the case anymore. His dark eyes widen, eluding terror in the finest form as a sadistic and psychotic expression takes form on his handsome face. He does not smirk but doesn’t furrow his brows in anger, instead, a blank and wide stare or twisted emotion eyeballs directly into your soul. God knows what he was capable of doing at this stage. A year escapes from the corner of your eye as you feel the tremble of fear hit you. You didn’t admit it verbally but indeed, you were afraid of him.
“Hmph…we’ll see about that.” He chuckles faintly as he pinches your chin harshly and mashes his lips against yours. Breaking the kiss, he tells you…
“I’m going to rip you apart.”
Authors note: if you know anything about heethan…you know what that means. And trust me, there will be more pain than pleasure this time around.
Now for Heelel…
Heelel likes to scare you. He likes to torment you at times because it’s his way of playing with you, since he loves to see you cry, laugh, smile, and be angry. If he’s been seeing a consistent smile on your face, he’ll love it absolutely, but will want just a little more bang for his buck, if you know what that means…
“I’m not scared of you anymore, heelel.”
“Oh really?” He looks up from his throne. His eyes wide with a horrific expression of sinister value. There he goes with that look of malice and twisted psychotic stare of murderous persona. “Feeling a little bold, aren’t we?”
You meant what you said, despite spitting it out of anger during the argument. Regardless of his stare, you maintained composure and refuse to falter. “Not bold. Fed up. I’ve been here for over a year and obeyed your every demand. I’ve given up my body, and there were times it was given against my own will I might add. Yet you still refuse to allow me the small bit of freedom to venture out and see my family. It’s unfair! I’ve told you I won’t leave, I just want to see them from time to time.”
He shoots up from his seat and grabs hold of you. He was so fast, displaying lightening speed as he not only embraced you with his own hands, but used the powers of his demonic force in telekinetic energy to keep you still. “How about I just make a visit and tear them apart, limb from limb, and have you witness their demise so you can forever hear their screams?”
You stare in shock. How could he say that to you? He takes notice of your surprised expression and kept it going. “I can send one of my brothers…or a demon spawned by the fires of this world that would love to purge and plunder into mortal flesh.”
“S-stop. You wouldn’t do that—“
“Oh no?” He chuckles as he scoots a piece of your hair aside lovingly. It was sickening sweet. The way he faintly smirked as he admired your face, held your wrist forcefully and pinned it on your lower back. “You wanna test the waters and see what happens, baby?”
He wasn’t bluffing. He loved you, insatiably…but that was all the more reason why he would do terrible things to hurt and isolate you. He loved you to do selfish things such as keep you all to himself, his possessive toxic obsession with you drove him to do so. With what he wouldn’t give to make you happy, and trust you to witness that he has done so many times. He has proven that he lives for you. He provides for you. He will do anything to make you feel at ease and happy. But cross and defy him as you are doing now, and he’ll punish you in a manner where it hurts the most…your loved ones you left behind. Even if they didn’t exist, he would find other ways to get his desperate screams out of you.
“Tell me darling, do you still feel ‘fed up’? Because we can keep going if you want…or we can stop and leave things as they are, and be happy. YOU WILL KEEP ME HAPPY.”
His grip tightens, causing a slight bit of pain at the been of your elbow as he pinches the small gap between your wrist and back, closing the remaining distance, enhancing the soreness in the process. You whine in pain as you try to use your free hand to push away but to no avail. “Listen to me, princess. I would kill for you. I would die for you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make you feel alive and eternally happy. But I will say this only one time…”
The corners of his mouth split, widening that offensively horrific grin he displayed. It was much more sinister and malicious than your ever seen him. His eyes widen psychotically, the sclera taking up more space as his black iris shrinks, enhancing that demonic and possessed expression. It was beyond terrifying. You swallow bile and terror as your eyes began to water, his expression was horrific enough, but to be this close as he closes the distance and his tongues which had grown longer and took the form that if a snake, slivers out and slithers against your skin. His voice was demonic in nature as it now carried a tune of high and low pitch simultaneously speaking the words. He has become the stuff that nightmares were made of.
“L-let go!”
“Answer me.” He maintains his force as he sternly demands you to obey. “You going to be good and keep me happy?”
You shift your face away and body squinting your eyes to avoid the ungodly expression closing in. His sharp and elongated teeth gently pressed against your cheek as he snarls a grin. “No matter if you willingly stay or not, whether you cry or laugh, or feel safe or frightened…just know y/n….i win either way.”
You gasp for air as you realized that the fear quaking in your chest caused you to hold in your breaths. “I have you…you’re mine. That’s all I need to feel complete. Whether you feel content or despair—is entirely up to you. But if you’re facing an eternity in Hell, let me tell you…it wouldn’t hurt to have a lover like me.”
He forces that offensive snake-like tongue coats the interior muscle and skin of your cheek and roof of your mouth, while his demeaning eyes violate your soul as he halfway shuts his lids in contentment. He was relishing in the current state of fear and despair you were in as you were forced to swallow his tongue down your throat, nearly making you gag.
He laughs maliciously. “It wouldn’t hurt to have me…care for you…to love you…to bring you happiness and give you whatever you ask for…aren’t I good to you baby?”
You nod urgently, hoping he would go back to normal already. “Say it.” He grits out as his tongue slowly slides out. Disgusting.
“Y-you’re good..t-to me.” You stutter as you hiccuped a sob or two. He caresses your cheek and pets your hair…his face and voice slowly transitions back to the dashingly handsome appearance you longed for. “Come here.” He smirks.
You collapse as you grab onto his chest, burying your face into him as you sob hysterically. You felt contradicted by holding on to him. You wanted to both, be comforted by him yet also run away. Far away. Since the latter was not an option, you needed to hold onto something…so why not him? The one who loves you more than his own eternal life.
“Shhh…you wanna dance with me baby? We can watch the stars and pick your favorite flowers. How does that sound?”
You grit your teeth as your sobs come to a calmed state. “Y-yes…that sounds good.”
“Good. No more of this talk about your freedom and leisure of traveling. You can go anywhere you like…so long as you’re under my sight.”
You nod. “Oh and y/n…”
You look up and witnessed that psychotic stare returning. “Try anything sneaky and I promise I’ll EAT YOU ALIVE.”
…….
So tell me anon, would you really want to tell either one of them that you aren’t scared of them anymore? 😏 I don’t think you guys want that.
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tgmsunmontue · 3 days
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Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 2/?
Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.
Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.
Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
                Bradley knows his car isn’t normal.
                The fact that he has never once had to buy gas is the biggest red flag if he ever saw one, except it’s not really red, because his car never stops working. Only works for him in fact, which he had thought was a joke that Maverick had started jokingly when he was younger. Except his car refuses to start for anyone else. No one can borrow it. He’s tried all of one time, handing the keys to one of his college friends when they’d asked if they could borrow his truck to move. He hadn’t thought twice about saying yes. And then they’d come back over an hour later saying it just wouldn’t start.
                So now everyone thinks his car is either cursed or possessed, in a joking way, the same way Maverick had, except Maverick had sometimes eyed it like he believed something else. And as much as he hates Maverick, he also doesn’t think he’d have let Bradley get into something that could potentially hurt him. Had seemed glad that it had started for Bradley, and Bradley alone. He hadn’t thought the car was maybe sentient or something until he’d lost the keys and thought he’d… beg.
                “Will you start for me buddy? I can’t find my keys and I really need to get across town to my classes…”
                He knows that later he’s going to think he imagined the wave of shuddering his car gave, like it was shrugging its shoulders or something. Except of course his car doesn’t have fucking shoulders, but it still starts and the radio flares to life and he doesn’t recognize the song playing at all, but he listens anyway… It's things I do for you, In return do the same for me. Okay. He doesn’t know what the hell that means, unless he’s meant to take the things I do for you literally.
                “I’ll give you a really good wash and polish okay? Oil wherever you want…” Bradley says, and he feels a little stupid, talking to his car, rubbing a hand along the dash, but his car just started because he asked it to so he’s past the point of thinking himself crazy. God he wishes he could talk to Maverick about this.
…            …            …
                When Jake’s accepted into USNA his family are all proud of him, then he gets into flight school, his dream of becoming an aviator one step closer. He has his degree in mechanical engineering and he knows better now. Knows more now, about how things are meant to fit together. How things work. This plane he’s been working on, playing with, since he was a kid doesn’t fit any of the stuff he’s learnt and he wonders if he simply fucked it up that badly as a teenager trying to do it up.
                He goes on a bit of a fact-finding mission. Talks to his uncle, finds out the original body came from a fair distance away, up past the Arctic circle in Canada. The fact his uncle had it transported all the way down to Texas is impressive, but his uncle is a truck driver and has travelled the breadth of the continent. He runs his hands over the body skeleton, knows he’s imagining the humming vibration beneath his fingers even if he wishes it were true. He’s been gone for years, away at USNA, and then flight school. While he’s been gone more bits of scrap have accumulated beside it, and no one knows when or how it got there. He hasn’t had time to dedicate to trying to fix her up properly, but looking around it’s almost like all the pieces are there.
                Hell, it’ll give him something to do while he has time to kill between deployments, his parents won’t mind storing it in an old barn if it means he comes home. It’s not like he has anything better to do.
                “You realize it’s never going to become airborne…” his father says, coming to stand beside him as he stares at it all, somehow just as big as it had seemed when he was a kid.
                “I don’t care. It’s good practice for me, and I enjoy it. No harm right?”
…            …            …
                The first time the Bronco reappears at the hangar Pete nearly has a heart attack. He definitely has a panic attack and has to breathe through it before grabbing the phone and ringing Ice.
                “Bradley. Is Bradley okay?”
                “Mav? What’s wrong?”
                “Just… I know I told you not to tell me. But can you just tell me he’s alive?”
                “Yes. I know he is. He left on his first deployment yesterday. Five months.”
                He breathes easier, thanks Ice for sharing that information with him and then turns to just look at the Bronco. It’s a bit dusty but it looks well maintained. Shiny and well cared for. A little before five months later when he wakes up the Bronco is gone and Pete finds himself more than okay knowing where the car’s true loyalties are.
…            …            …
                Bradley doesn’t believe in magic.
                Magic doesn’t exist.
                Any yet sometimes he wonders.
                Because he doesn’t know how to explain it.
                He’d left his car in Virginia Beach, fairly certain that it was going to be there when he got back. It’s not like anyone else can even drive it, let alone steal it. Although a part of him wonders what would happen if someone tried to steal the tires. And if he could film it.
                Getting off the carrier in San Diego he’s heading toward the transport to take him to base. He’s organized a flight back to Virginia Beach, and he’ll take his leave on the East Coast. Except the sound of a car horn has him looking and this, this is why he thinks his life is somehow got a touch of the eldritch or something. The Bronco is sitting and waiting. Waiting for him specifically, windows down, because no one else can drive it.
                But it can apparently drive itself and it came to pick him up.
                It’s a hell of a homecoming and he kisses his fingers and then taps the fingers to the dashboard as he gets in.
                “Good to see you buddy. Missed you.”
                He hopes no-one sees him talking to thin-air, but he’s also pretty sure his car can not only hear him but understands him. It occurs to him that he now has to cancel his flight transfer back, and he still somehow has to get to himself and his car to Virginia Beach, because he doesn’t want to be hanging around San Diego and bumping into anyone.
…            …            …
                “Thanks for the new bike…”
                “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
                “Love you too.”
                Tom frowns. Are people just dumping their old junkers at the hangar now?
                Well. At least it’s keeping Pete busy.
…            …            …
                “I don’t want you driving that late at night when you’re that tired. We aren’t in our twenties any more Pete…”
                “So you bought me a trailer? So I can sleep at the hangar?”
                “Well, not just sleep…”
                “Ooohhh… yeah okay. Let’s go give it a test drive huh?”
                “Sounds good.”
…            …            …
                Jake is tired. That has to be why he’s seeing a giant walking plane staring down at his plane, his do-it-upper that he’s had for over fifteen years now. He thinks and dreams about planes and flying so much he’s now seeing them when he’s awake. He should probably go back to bed. Then the thing is turning, bearing down on him and snarling.
                “You. Human. Did you do this?”
                “Holy shit…” Jake says.
                “Answer me!”
                “Did what exactly? Build it? Yeah. That was me. I’m trying to fix him up. Who are you? What are you?”
                The machine’s eyes flick over him, clearly assessing or looking for something and Jake stands where he is, scared shitless but refusing to show it.
                “Who I am does not matter, but my name is Starscream. This is… my friend. Jetfire. What happened to him?”
                “Uh. I don’t know. I’ve been collecting pieces and rebuilding it… is… Is Jetfire like you?”
                “Jetfire is better than I. I failed him. He will need his wings and some power.”
                Jake looks between the pile of pieces which form a very rough body of a plane fuselage and then at the towering body of… Starscream.
                “Wait, are you saying he can be bought back to life?”
                “Of course. We will finish rebuilding him.”
                “Holy shit,” Jake says again. “You’re serious. What are we going to need?”
                Starscream looks at him, and he doesn’t look happy.
                “We…” he looks even more disgusted at the word. “Are going to need help.”
                And yeah, okay. Jake can appreciate where he’s coming from.
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hoolay-boobs · 8 months
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“What do you mean there’s still so much biphobia in fan spaces? Bisexuals are like some of the most popular characters!”
Yeah, and they either get treated like this:
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Or like this:
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“Biphobia isn’t real” neither are your braincells
#bisexuals deserve better#biphobia tw#biphobia#bisexual#bisexuality#listen not to post this rancid post on bi visibility month but part of bi visibility month is venting about biphobia and that’s okay#long tags#bisexual characters are constantly branded as either gay/lesbian or straight because bisexuality is constantly branded as never good enough#yes harlivy are sometimes fetishized by men who want to get off on seeing girls smooch. yes sometimes these men are the writers of dc#no they do not make up 100% of harlivy content. no gross men drooling over harlivy doesn’t immediately make harlivy straight#harlivy have had queer female writers before. a huge portion of their fanbase are queer girls#just because they are occasionally festished doesn’t mean that they aren’t good bi rep#I see where this person is coming from but no. bc REAL BI WOMEN get festishized by men and that won’t make their sexuality any less valid#would you tell these real girls that they’re actually straight since ‘sapphicness isn’t sapphicness once it’s taken advantage of by men’?#glimmer lesbian content makes me sad bc it’s not even like interpreting harlivy or korrasami as lesbians assuming all wlw is solely lesbian#but also erasing her entire romance with bow. degrading it down to comphet and ignoring bow#like I can at least understand mistakening poison ivy for a lesbian but glimmer?? glimmer??!#biphobic#biphobic tw#bisexual hardships#korrasami#harlivy#glimbow#bi#fucking essay in the tags
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applecherry108 · 1 year
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Will there be a bad guy or any threats to the turtles in genera, like I don't know... Bishop or the krang
Oroku saki with an evil look on his face 👀👀
Love your work ❤️❤️❤️
N….not really? 😅😅😅 The closest my au gets is the Foot Clan and even then, once they realize their Beloved Son is a Hamato, they go about dismantling the dark armor real fast. And without the Evil™️ in their organization, they have no need to free the krang…
And since Draxum has a New Found Appreciation for humans since, you know, his son is genetically human, he sorta….abandons the whole mutagen thing, so none of the mutant villains are present…
Even the Battle Nexus is transformed into a more Ninja Warrior-esque competition…
Honestly, it’s all just interpersonal drama. It’s a lot of custody battles and divorcees getting back together lmao
The biggest villain of this au is Loneliness and Guilt.
Anyways, check out these designs.
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gregmarriage · 2 months
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i may know it’s healthy to interact with people and be social, but that doesn’t mean i find it easy in any way
#like i don’t actually mean to isolate myself i just get lost in doing my own thing#which isn’t bad in itself#but then i find myself feeling sad and idk why#bruh you haven’t spoken to your friends in quite a while#if i was a sim my social bar would be red#but i still don’t wanna talk to people sometimes#like i have to physically force myself just to say ‘hey!#everyone pray for gwen’s social life bc it sucks and isn’t really getting any better even tho i’m trying my hardest#i do wanna push myself more and talk to ppl i’ve always wanted to talk to#but my stupid brain won’t let me#i’m trying to push past it though#it would be nice to make new friends that i then neglect bc i’m bad at friendship#idk maybe that isn’t fair#but i still wouldn’t say i’m great at it#idk i just feel dumb for begging people to talk to me#or even just sending messages to new people#or even my friends who i know won’t judge me but still#idk i’m still sensitive after my episode and i just feel embarrassing and annoying and like i’m bugging people#and i believe them when they say i’m not but it doesn’t stop completely me from feeling that way#literally ‘hey’ feels like i just pissed on the floor in front of them#like god! way to be annoying gwen!!#yes i know it’s my brain talking but literally i use up so much energy trying not to feel it#and so much letting myself feel it#and i only have so much energy as it is#not that it matters#bc most ppl don’t care as long as i check in sometimes#but again i repeat my earlier statement#don’t wanna check in i feel cringe#need friends and communication but cannot maintain them#like the 100th post i’ve made but it’s what my thoughts are currently
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goldkirk · 1 year
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oh man, owning a body is way scarier than being in one while not owning it is
#wow it is so inconvenient to have a concept of autonomy that isn’t restricted#like it is better yes I get it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t an adjustment#I’m panicking less drastically with more time in between#but it’s still so hard to retain a grasp on the fullness of This Is Totally Only Your Body You Have The Ultimate Control Over It#because there’s just SO MUCH MORE that comes along WITH that and I have very little#processing power to sore as is#*spare#I don’t even know what a body is optimally supposed to be like how am I supposed to know how to make my way over to that?#and that’s all I have to say about that#shh katie#trauma recovery#and I just like. get to make every ultimate decision about it forever. like how close people can get or whether to do an activity or what#clothes I get to choose#and I get to say no to things and I get to defend myself if I want and I get to do fun scary new things in it if I want etc etc#and I love getting all these things! I love that it’s ‘I get’#but most of the time what I actually feel is ‘I HAVE’#I HAVE to decide each moment if I want someone to touch me I HAVE to decide if something feels good or not I HAVE to defend myself if I need#to be defended I HAVE to choose clothes with JUST me making my decisions I HAVE to change my body to be healthier I HAVE to etc etc#but then I feel ashamed and unworthy because I feel like I’m doing something wrong by acting or appearing ungrateful while#having such lucky amazing incredible way-more-than-I-could-have-imagined change in the past year#and so much to be grateful for beyond words#anyway there’s no lesson here it’s just a post it note saying where I’m at#I’ll move on from this to something else in a new stage as time passes#it’s chill#cult survivor#add to journal
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what if i just don’t play arc 2
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leostellivm · 1 year
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it just really gets under my skin when people do not understand klaus mikaelson properly
and he isn’t even MY character so like what’s gonna happen when i write a book and people don’t understand my actual characters…….maybe i better not lmfao
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coldvampire · 5 months
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i think it’s time for another social break.
#to be clear this isn’t in relation to current events#it’s just about my personal life.#I’m back stuck in that cycle where I feel like I don’t have friends > I lose energy and motivation to socialize#& seeing stuff w other people who are Not in that cycle makes it. so much worse. lol.#yes yes hypocrite moment I know I’m also busy I know adult life makes it hard etc etc I’m still going to feel#emotions about it.#idk as much as I say living near people would be ideal for happy surface reasons truthfully I think if I’m not in someone line of sight#I get forgotten#like roommates are great (sometimes) bc forced proximity means there’s something built in#I say plural bc I also know you need to rotate socially. better for everyone involved.#like idk. I don’t know how to stop feeling this way or how to break out of it#and getting my ass away from social media is really the only way I know to stop me from getting Extremely hurt and jealous lmao#I’m bad at maintaining connection after a while and I think bc at the start of friendships I usually Do have the energy to be the ‘starter’#or planner or w/e when I start to wane a bit it goes unnoticed. so it’s back into the cycle. and I’m not sure if this will ever stop being#a thing for me? also I can’t blame anyone for seeing that and Not wanting to reach out bc like. why would you#as great as I can be short term I don’t feel like I’m worth the trouble once I pass a certain ‘expiration date’#so as much as I’d want to be more mad about it I can’t really be bc I Get It. I do. but it’s still depressing.#it’s so stupid of me really bc I do this ridiculous thing where I’ll Light Up when I feel like someone’s interested bc it’s nice!#its a nice feeling! so naturally it’ll make me perk up a bit more even if I’m feeling otherwise low#and it doesn’t take much so maybe I’m giving the impression I take effort? idk I know I can be skittish at first. I don’t want to come on#strong or annoying. (we’re all annoying kill the cringe etc etc but if you want friends you need to sync up at least)#but maybe that’s off putting?? I don’t know. I’m out of ideas on how to be.#I haven’t even had the energy to make content or really even think about my characters bc it feels like there’s no point. sometimes in the#past I could at least rely on that a bit to be a sort of bridge to reach out to people with but I just don’t feel like I’m able to.#the posts I made just steadily got less and less interest over the spring and summer and I always felt like#in servers I’d just suck the air out of the room bc people felt polite but uninterested.#everyone else was also able to move past and be friends outside of that and I just never could manage even over multiple years sometimes#and over time that’s just weighed on me a lot. no matter where I go I always end up feeling like I’m supposed to be temporary#social filler. how do you end up meeting people when it just constantly recoil from your efforts?#being weird isn’t as fun when it’s the Wrong Kind.
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saetoru · 7 months
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Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹
part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed
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imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).
“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.
“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”
you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.
it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.
but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.
you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.
“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.
you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.
“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)
“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)
“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”
almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”
“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?
“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.
this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.
“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”
“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”
and then you really do see him around.
sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.
and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.
today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.
i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.
today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.
and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.
and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.
except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.
“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”
“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”
he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.
“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.
“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”
“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”
“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”
you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.
“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.
“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.
“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.
“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”
somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.
i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.
you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.
you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.
it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.
does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?
and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.
but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.
evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.
but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.
yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.
they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.
and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.
it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.
sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.
you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.
or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.
that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.
that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.
like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.
and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.
it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.
and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.
you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.
it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.
he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.
you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.
when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.
“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.
satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.
“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”
“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.
you can’t have that.
“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.
“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”
his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.
“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”
for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.
it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.
“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”
“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”
there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.
you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.
you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.
“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”
“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”
you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.
“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”
“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”
“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”
“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.
something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.
“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.
maybe he does.
“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”
“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.
well….maybe he’s already succeeded.
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helluvapoison · 3 months
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Lend A Helping Hand
Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk need help preening
warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not
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ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Lilith used help… when she was around. The thought of asking someone else, much less the act itself, scorched him with guilt
• Oh well. Lucifer did it before, Heaven had rules about it, so he can do it again! And of course he did! It doesn’t mean it’s not an excruciatingly long process he puts off as long as he can tolerate
• You walk in on him attempting to strain his arms in ways they certainly shouldn’t bend. “Need some help?”
• “Pfft, who me? No, no, no I—“ He pauses. It’s like the predicament he’s been caught in settles in slowly, his smile dropping and crimson irises widening to rival a puppy’s cuteness. “Yes.” He admits meekly
• Your fingers barely touch his feathers and Lucifer jolts. Like him, his wings are so sensative
• Don’t take it personally when he tries to back out after that, cheeks bright red from embarrassment. He has six wings and can barely tolerate your touch as is. This could take a while, he already feels bad
• After a teaspoon more of convincing and a gallon of reassurance later, Lucifer sits as still as he can (which isn’t very) while you gently break open the pin feathers
• You could tease if you wanted, make a joke to try and settle his nerves but something tells you his wings aren’t the only thing that’s sensitive
• Lucifer appreciates your assistance and tenderness more than words can describe, nothing seems like a big enough gift to reward your hard work
˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Usually it’s Lute that would help him (and vice versa if he feels like it) but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t casually ask anyone else. Heaven and its inhabitants can be weird about certain shit, preening is no exception— even though everyone has wings here!
• Walking past Adam’s office, you heard a crash and a lot of swearing. “Sir, are you—?”
“Unless you’re gonna help, fuck right off!” He growls from the ground, still reaching at an awkward angle for his wings
• He’s shocked when you sit on your knees beside him and swat his hand away. “If you make this weird, I will leave.” You warn. He doesn’t dare make even a single comment
• Adam shivers when your fingers glide into his feathers. You wave it off the first time but can’t stop a laugh when it happens again
Face first into the carpet, his loud voice is muffled, “Shut! Up!”
• You take pity on him and don’t drag the process longer than necessary. Awarding yourself a final pet of his oddly soft wings, you stand up, “There. All better?”
• Rising to his feet and giving his wings an experimental stretch, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Thanks. I guess.”
• The next day, you receive a basket from Goody-2-Shoes with various snacks. The card reads, ‘Let me know when I can return the favor. Wings don’t have to be included. ~ A’
˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• You know she needs help when she’s more irritable than usual. Snapping at everyone, even Adam, and flinching when her wings move in the slightest
• Approaching the subject with her is harder than anyone. As aforementioned it’s unspokenly taboo but that isn’t what stops her. Lute’s deep rooted issues with intimacy and needing help will make her walls thicker than ever
• “This is inappropriate,” Lute whispers.
In the dead of night she’s finally allowed you to assist but keeps fidgeting and surveying the area like someone will catch you two.
“It is not,” You roll your eyes, “Get your mind out of the gutter and be still! I’ll have you’ll feeling better in no time.”
• She seriously, seriously doubts that. Anything she can’t do herself, amongst certain divine exceptions, no one could do for her
• …But she’s letting you help (and your adept fingers are doing a better job) So either she doesn’t fully believe that, or you miraculously raised her expectations
• Lute decides the latter is acceptable– and a compliment, especially since you prove her wrong. Triple checking her wings, she can’t find a flaw or deny how wonderful they feel now.
• “This is adequate.”
You snort, “You could just say thanks?”
“How can I repay you?”
“I just told you.”
• She narrows her eyes, shocked and suspicious that you wouldn’t want anything. Lute, again, decides that your endeavor deserves an equal act of goodwill. Don’t take it for granted when she says, “No. I owe you one. One.”
˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• She genuinely forgets what’s wrong with her when she needs to preen. Even with her wings folded away, the irritable pricking can be felt. She’s itching the back of her neck, hand clawing under the crew of her shirt and dipping between her shoulder blades when you ask when’s the last time she checked for pin feathers
• Vaggie’s always been independent. Up in Heaven she was a bit cocky with the fact she never needed help to reach them. Now, she felt helpless and stupid. Her arms cramped up, her hair kept getting in the way and the itching only progressed
• “Can I–?”
“No.” Her ivory eyes go wide, surprised at the fury of her own voice. Sighing and avoiding your (what she assumed was a) pitiful gaze, she apologizes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I… I used to be able to do this alone.”
Pausing at how defeated Vaggie sounds, you do your best to keep a positive, neutral tone.
“Cut yourself some slack, you haven’t done this in years. And, y’know, you don’t have to do it alone now. Not if you don’t want.”
• Smiling at the offer hanging in the air but not quite accepting, she goes about her managerial duties only to knock on your door afterwards
• Vaggie’s so grateful you can’t see how dark her face becomes as you sort through her wings. They’re not sensitive, they never were– it’s something about your fingers delicately touching her that cracks her resolve. Now she starts to understand why this was seen as an intimate act upstairs
• “Thanks for…” Still blushing, she gestures to her wings before hiding them, “Thanks.”
You try to keep up with her indifference but can’t help the smile spreading across your face.
“No problem.”
• If you think she’s not replaying the moment over and over in her head for days afterwards, you’re wrong. Vaggie’s desperately waiting for the moment to be just as useful to you
˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• He’s hardly a fan of Angel touching him the way he does so a solid relationship is required to unlock the level of trust needed for this activity
• The first time it happens when you’re in his life, he won’t ask but also doesn’t reject the offer. Just looks extremely hesitant and uncomfortable
• Carefully, you pinch the rough layer and eye Husk from over his shoulder
• He breathes out a laugh, “Gonna take more than that to hurt me, sugar. Go on, I’ll be fine.”
• His wings might be the least sensitive… but that could also be all that alcohol in his system
• Husk hums as you work. After he gives a big, cat-like stretch and thanks you with a tip of his hat
• The simple gesture means more than you know, he’ll never forget it
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ accidentally on purpose put them from most to least sensitive wings hehehe
big big big BIG thank you to @kottenox for the inspiration and letting me take this idea and run!
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twi-liight · 8 months
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Petty Jealousy ❣
Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!
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“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!” 
5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks. 
“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.” 
Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”
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Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.” 
Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate. 
 “Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm. 
“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!” 
“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words. 
“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips. 
“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?” 
“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.” 
Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.
“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds,  “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.” 
Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.” 
Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.
“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?” 
He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”
“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.” 
If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something. 
He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.
“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?” 
Yes. They all nod their heads. 
“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.” 
Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.” 
“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.” 
They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind. 
Unbearably unaware of their true nature.
Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting. 
The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined. 
“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.” 
How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone. 
No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.
Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke. 
"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."
Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.
“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”
“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.” 
Excellent. 
“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!” 
“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.” 
“Karlach!” 
“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.” 
“Gale?!” 
“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”
“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!” 
❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3
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forestpixies · 1 month
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no actually you’re either gentle parenting your child or you’re being emotionally and/or physically abusive to them, whether or not you’re aware of that.
because the term gentle parenting already includes discipline and teaching your kid right from wrong. gentle parenting doesn’t mean you can’t tell your kid no. it means you can tell them no when they do something they shouldn’t, but instead of punishing or yelling at them, you’re explaining and giving them reasons why they can’t do that, you are helping them learn and encouraging them to be better. gentle parenting means you’re using reasons built on mutual respect instead of anger. because yes, no matter how young your child is, they deserve respect too.
I’m sorry but most of the times when someone says they’re a strict parent, what it means is that they give their child childhood trauma that’ll last a lifetime, whether or not they’re aware of it. especially parents who brag to other people about how strict they are and how they punished their children.
and I’m sorry but saying you have a short temper is never an excuse to be emotionally and/or physically abusive towards your kid either.
“I yelled at you because I have a short temper” then why am I the one suffering? if you can’t control your anger, then get help. work on it. do better. be better.
also… your child standing up for themself against you, when you’re being abusive to them, isn’t them being disrespectful towards you. it means they are defending themself because you wouldn’t do that for them and so they had to step in and be their own protector.
if you’re a parent and can defend and stand up for yourself when you feel like you need to, but at the same time punish your kid when they stand up for themself against you, then you are the problem.
I was that child and I’m gonna make it as simple as I can for any parent out there — because no kid deserves to go through what I went through — imagine yourself owning a dog. really. you can either
a.) beat that dog whenever they do something wrong and simply take your anger out on them until they’re fully submissive and are terrified of you
or
b.) train them with love and gentleness and earn their love and loyalty in return
now imagine both A and B dogs on leashes and imagine them no longer being on leashes one day. which dog do you think will run away as far as they can and never look back, and which one do you think will stay because they love and want to be with their owner?
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