#because he's LONELY and because he CARES. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosewaterandivy · 3 days

Text

i. aconite

Summary: there are strange things that go bump in the night, and then there’s steve harrington and his inexplicable nailbat.

Pairing: s.h. x f!werewolf reader

W.C.: 5.5K

Warnings: supernatural elements, questionable bodily substances in the adults only section of Family Video, steve gettin’ the heebie-jeebies

A/N: the thing that has been scratching at the back of my head for months tbh.

m.list | playlist

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

And if he’d only listened to Munson, he wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night with a nailbat and a flashlight.

But Steve wasn’t in the habit of heeding the advice of the harbinger of Hawkins from the wrong side of the tracks.

Not when there were things afoot that tended to go thump in the night. Not when Munson’s girl wound up bruised and unconscious on his doorstep.

There had to be a logical explanation, right?

Unfortunately for him, these woods had secrets to keep and you had miles to go before you would sleep.

The moon shone low and lonely in the night sky, illuminating the man in front of you— his coif of hair and lazy swinging of the bat.

The weak yellow beam of his flashlight cast about this way and that with every step he took further into the woods past his house.

Picking your way across the pine needle-ridden forest floor, you trailed him at a leisurely pace. Senses heightened, you could hear the dry snap of twigs under his feet and the soft whistle from his lips; could smell the sweat beading on his brow, his cologne giving way to salty musk beneath.

Even in your sleep, you could track him— never mind how much you wish that weren’t the case.

Not, of course, that he knew any of this. Eddie had seen to that. And yet, despite the warnings, here he was: Steve Harrington ambling about the woods on the night of a full moon, seemingly without a care in the world.

And it fell to your lot to see that no harm befell him, even though he’d cast his crown aside long ago and traded it in for a rowdy bunch of kids and shifts at Family Video.

None of that mattered in the end, because King Steve or no you’d run until your feet were bloody if it meant keeping him safe.

That’s what you’d been born, cursed as you were, to do— protect.

Kill, if the occasion warranted it.

Though, it would help matters if he didn’t get himself into so much trouble.

But hey, we can’t have everything, right?

The first time it happened, it was a coincidence. The house did back up against a forested lot afterall.

The second time it happened, it was an accident. Cutting it too close to daybreak and utterly exhausted from activities hidden under a blanket of darkness.

The third time though…

The third time signified a pattern, and not one you could necessarily recognize.

Because when it happened, the wolf, the beast, the curse, what have you, the world narrowed to a singular point of focus.

Loping in the underbrush of the dense forest, pure instinct called you to follow a scent you couldn’t quite name— sharp, salty, with a tang that lingered on the tongue. Warm like the sun, and beckoning like a raging fire.

Mine, the beast purred from the depths of your throat.

In this form, the rational and logical part of you fell by the wayside as the beast unfurled and stretched to fill the caverns of your mind.

Retaining just enough of your waking self, you paused at the edge of the forest ears attuned to the sounds of the evening air. Radio frequencies, TV static, car engines turning over, water rushing through pipes.

Yet one sound soared above them all.

Stay, the beast hummed as you sat back on your haunches.

Foolishly, a part of you hoped to hear the bright sound once more, to have it fill the well inside of you and overflow into your veins.

A laugh.

“Robin, knock it off!”

The beast sighed as you settled against the underbrush, chest and stomach to the earth.

A surge of longing threatened to pull you under, a low whine eeking from the cavern of your chest. Laying your head down on the cool ground, you swallowed thickly around that hollow feeling.

Wait.

The last full moon had found you alone and waking up in the back of Eddie’s van as he drove down the quiet suburban streets of Loch Nora.

”Again?”

Your voice was barely a rasp, sore from disuse in its normal register, striking a muddled alto in the otherwise silent morning.

Eddie just sighed and reached over to toss an old Hellfire shirt and some boxers your way.

Shrugging off his jacket and the musty blanket he laid on you, you tugged on the worn raglan and shimmied into the plaid shorts. Once decent, you clambered over the console and tumbled into the front seat.

Your body, while sore and aching, didn’t audibly complain. Far used to rougher treatment by now, especially after a full moon.

He lights up a cigarette, not bothering to crack a window or look your way. Just simply and calmly states, “I told you so.”

Fuck.

The chains and aconite were supposed to be enough, that’s what all the books said. At least, all the books you could scrounge up in Hawkins.

A dull ache radiated from your wrists, telltale bruising from the shackles that were meant to contain the beast.

It was you, you were the beast— as if you could ever forget.

Lycanthropy by way of puberty, what a welcome into womanhood, huh?

”The chains are shot,” He says, turning onto the main drag. “Drywall too.”

You rolled your lip between your teeth and slumped down into the seat, heating in embarrassment.

”I’ll pay for the repairs.”

Eddie grunts and takes a long drag from the cigarette. He exhales slowly, rolling through a stop light before pulling off toward Forest Hills.

Silence from your best friend was never a good thing. All it signaled was a prelude to the inevitable rant driven by sheer boredom or hunger. But maybe, he was just tired.

You certainly were.

He parks the van and swings out of the door, loping onto the ground with the grace of a beleaguered old man, his knees cracking and popping like a bag of marbles. You follow shortly after, and no worse for wear, in spite of your bruises.

The comforting scent of tobacco and coffee hits your nostrils and the tension of your body melts away. Wayne left a warm pot on before passing out on the couch, and you tip-toe your way across the trailer as silently as you’re able.

You take a deep, bracing sip from a mug heralding Roswell as the ‘UFO Capital of the World!’ as cinnamon dances across your tongue.

Good ol’ Wayne.

Eddie is in his bedroom, cigarette dangling from his lips as he throws your backpack over his shoulder and eyes you up and down.

“Pants and shoes would be good,” He suggests, brushing past you on his way out the door. “We’re leaving in five.”

Setting the coffee aside, you scramble through piles of clothing, their cleanliness questionable, searching for anything that doesn’t scream ‘freshly fucked by Eddie Munson.’

You chug the coffee on the way to school, the sounds of Dio doing absolutely nothing for the throbbing pain behind your left eye. The van squeals into a parking spot just as the tardy bell trills.

Eddie’s hand braces against your chest, halting your exit from the vehicle and ensuring a pink slip from a hall monitor. The morning cigarette seems to have settled him, his gaze now concerned rather than annoyed.

”I’m sorry,” you say glumly, carding a hand through your tangled hair and tying it up in a loose bun. “I thought it would work Ed, I really fucking did.” Hands scrub down your face, desperately trying to hide your shame.

He pulls you toward him in a loose hug, his chin tucking over your head as it's buried in his chest. Soft, warm, familiar, his scent burrows its way into your consciousness calming the racket of your heart.

”We’ll figure it out, kid.”

And you’re about to laugh, can feel it wet and thick, currently lodged in your throat, when a maroon BMW swings into a spot not five paces away.

Tension cords the tendons of your body, a breath escapes you, as if it’s been forced from your chest. Pulse accelerating, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to just breathe.

Safe with Eddie. Safe with Eddie. Safe with—

A discongruent note of citrus and musk tinges the air. The sound of laughter, a euphoric baritone against a sputtering, higher-pitched explanation churns like magma through your veins.

You shudder in his hold, but it’s enough.

He tugs you closer and drops an affectionate kiss to the crown of your head before saying, “Okay, fuck this.”

The engine roars to life.

Before Eddie can hightail it out of the parking lot, your head swivels back to catch a glance from warm hazel eyes, and you can’t help the pathetic whine that eeks up your throat.

”So,” He clears his throat, hands fidgeting on the wheel, “It’s getting worse.”

Facing forward once the school is out of sight, you draw your knees into your seat and rest your head against them.

”Yeah,” you say glumly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Later that week, when Steve and Robin are drawing straws for who has to wipe down the 'ADULTS ONLY' room and the crusty questionable remnants found therein, she asks:

”So, anymore of those weird dreams?”

Steve takes his time picking his straw, moving left and then right to gauge length before taking a step back and cocking his head.

Robin has her fingers curled in a tight fist, making it difficult to assess which straw is the shorter of the two. And Steve braved the room behind the little red curtain last week, so he’s not terribly keen to see what fresh hell is back there now.

”Not since I told you last time, no.”

Surprisingly, there is rather a bit of time to kill after the evening rush on a Friday night at Family Video. The girls coming in for candy and movies at their sleepovers, toddlers absolutely wrecking the shelves as they sweep through with abandon, harried mothers trailing in their wake.

As such, Robin has pitched herself as a quasi-dream interpreter after reading some book about the subject, much to Steve’s chagrin and her entertainment.

”Seriously, nothing?” Her eyes blow wide, eager for anything to alleviate her boredom.

Steve assesses his options, eyes narrowing and biting his lip as he goes in for the kill. He pulls a straw from Robin’s grasp just as the bell on the door chimes, signaling a new customer.

”Welcome in,” Robin chirps, unraveling her fingers to reveal her straw.

”Let us know if you need any help!” Steve adds on automatically, holding his straw to hers for measurement.

She groans when she realizes that she’s drawn the short straw, eyes rolling in distaste while Steve pumps his fist into the air in victory. Robin grabs the gloves under the cash register, a spray bottle of cleaning fluid, and a rag.

”If I’m not back in ten minutes…”

”Call the NRA—“

”EPA!”

”Yeah, yeah,” He smirks at her indignant squawk, “I know.” And waves Robin off to the back of the store with a lazy hand.

Steve leans against the counter, hand falling to a slinky resting on the laminate. He props himself up on an elbow, cupping his jaw with one hand, and wraps his fingers around the glorified silver spring.

He nearly forgets there’s a customer in the store until someone softly clears their throat. Letting the slinky drop with a metallic ching, Steve looks up to find a familiar face.

“Hey,” he greets as you slide the tapes across the counter, “Find everything okay?”

You nod, pulling out your wallet out of your pocket to count some bills as he tallies up the total.

It’s quiet, save for the rattle of the air conditioner and sound of plastic as Steve runs the tapes through the machine to unlock the cases. He can see you worry your bottom lip in between your teeth, the raw red of your lips a stark contrast to the white of your teeth.

And it’s not like he’s staring or anything; Steve’s mindful to keep his gaze moving, not landing in a particular spot for too long. That is until your eyes meet his and he drops a tape onto the floor.

“Shit,” He mutters, kneeling down behind the counter to reach it.

Your eyes aren’t normally that bright, are they? It’s just a trick of the light, surely.

He returns, momentarily baffled to find Eddie at your side, because he didn’t remember hearing the bell chime from the door.

Steve nods to Eddie in greeting and slides the case through the machine. He keys in a code on the register before asking, “Weekend rental?”

Again, you nod. Lip popping plump and full as your teeth retreat.

“Okay, so, Sunday night return,” Steve says and rattles off your total.

Sliding the bills across the table, his fingers brush yours just barely, and you retract your hand as if it’d been burned.

The register drawer dings open and before he can give you a receipt, you’re gone.

Eddie stands at the counter, the door swinging in the wake of your exit.

“She had to, uh—“ He begins to say, fingers drumming on the laminate. “Y’know what? It really doesn’t matter.”

He takes the receipt from Steve and shoves it into his pocket, leisurely backing toward the door.

“Dunno if you heard,” He says, voice raising just slightly as his back pushes against the glass and metal. “But there’s a party out on the lake, if you’re interested.”

”Yeah?”

He nods as Robin, dramatically shoves the velvet curtain open, the screeching metallic sound jarring as she stumbles toward the counter.

Eddie raises his brows in interest and bemusement, while Robin peels the yellow gloves from her arms and plops them into a nearby trash can.

”Yeah, some bonfire thing.” He kicks his foot back, the bell chiming as Eddie exits the store, “You should come by, if you want.”

Robin glances between Eddie’s retreating back and Steve, curiosity evident in her gaze.

”What was that all about?”

Steve shakes his head, momentarily transfixed at the memory of your eyes— so bright, they were nearly phosphorescent. Fascinating in the way they captivated him, both alluring and haunting.

He couldn’t recall seeing a color or hue quite like it, except for in his dreams.

The bonfire had been burning for a little over an hour by the time you and Eddie arrived on the scene.

You’d killed the time by categorizing the little baggies of his lunchbox, under the guise of double-checking that he had enough stock from Rick for the evening’s business. When, in reality, you were making sure none of your wolfsbane had made its way into tonight’s offerings.

Not that there would be much of the dried blue petals left to do much of anything to the average American teenager. You’d been pounding the stuff all week, as if it was going out of style.

Anything to keep the beast in its slumber.

Following Eddie as he made his way through the crowd of drunk or on their way to it teens, you pondered the recent uptick in Wolf-like Incidents you’d had to deal with.

Because, while incredibly annoying, the beast used to be reliable. Every full moon, like clockwork, you would up your intake of aconite in the days leading up to it.

And it used to be enough to quell the ache in your bones. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you wouldn’t even transform at all. Just wake the next morning feeling like fresh road kill.

But recently things had been… well, worse, for one.

The tinctures and teas didn’t cut it any more, so after copious research you had added chains to the equation. That helped, for a time. And that time was quickly coming to a close.

Now, even without the ticking time bomb of a full moon, you felt the throb of your canines pushing underneath your gums. You had blood in your mouth, more often than not. And your senses seemed permanently heightened— scent, sound, touch.

It made day-to-day life an over-sensitized nightmare that you couldn’t wake from.

At least under a full moon, the preternatural senses were a boon rather than a burden.

Catching your gaze, Eddie nodded before slipping off with a few customers on the outskirts of the group. You kept your eyes trained on them as they walked further into the woods, even though he said he could handle himself.

Yeah, you could count on one hand the amount of times Eddie had successfully “handled” it. Settling your back against a tree trunk, you cross your arms and wait.

Robin is still fixing her hair when Steve kills the engine of the beemer at Lover’s Lake.

“Seriously, you look fine,” He says, opening the car door and shoving the keys into his pocket.

He can hear the thump of the music and see the golden and amber flames from the fire a ways away.

Robin shuts her door and Steve crosses the hood of the car to sling an arm around her shoulders.

“It’ll be fun,” He promises, breath tickling against her cheekbone.

They shoulder their way through the crowd leading up to the keg, where Steve watches with a smirk as two linebackers haul out a replacement keg.

They stare at each other for a minute, brows furrowed as to how the beer possibly escapes a sealed keg while the line behind them grows restless.

Steve sighs and extricates himself from Robin, “Where’s the tap?”

”What?”

He rolls his eyes, “The tap? The plastic pump that makes the beer come out?”

The linebackers nod and make a show of looking for the elusive tap. After a few minutes of frantic searching, there’s a victorious crow from the crowd when the tap if finally held aloft.

But still, the linebackers seem puzzled.

Steve, having quite enough of their bullshit, takes the tap from their grasp and slams it into the keg, twisting until a soft hiss sounds.

”Great,” He says, taking a step back. “Now, get to pumping. If I’m back in two minutes and you dinguses haven’t figured it out—“

Robin drags him away before he can finish the thought.

They tramp through the woods, twigs breaking underfoot, as Robin drags him along by the wrist. Beer cans skitter with a metallic clink as their shoes kick them along.

Once at the outskirts of the crowd, Robin drops his hand and turns to him with an incredulous look on her face.

“What is with you tonight?”

Her arms are crossed, a sure sign that she’s peeved, and he must be really in for it. She taps her foot impatiently awaiting his response.

“Nothing.”

She balks, “Yeah, sure. Then why the sudden emergence of King Steve, huh?”

“That wasn’t—“ He sputters, carding a hand through his hair.

He fails to string together any semblance of a response. Has no reason or excuse for how keyed up he feels right now. Itchy as if his skin is too tight, an impatient feeling skittering underneath the surface. Something is off, but he doesn’t know what. Which makes him frustrated, hence the scene at the keg.

The dull sounds of the party drown out the strained silence between them, the timber cracking from the bonfire loud enough to startle.

Steve starts to think that maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. But then, Robin’s eyes light up at something behind him. Steve turns to look and sees the copper flash of Vickie’s hair in the firelight.

He huffs a laugh and turns back to Robin with a smile, he jerks his head behind him and says, “Go.”

Robin pulls her lip between her teeth, “Y’sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

A smile breaks across her face as she pulls him into a hug, “You’re the best, Stevie.”

Steve sighs as he watches her go. Luckily she refrains from her typical idiot run— all gangly legs and spaghetti arms— and sends Vickie a shy wave as she skirts the bonfire and makes her way over.

Something tugs low in his gut, snapping like a rubber band. It’s an odd sensation and not entirely unpleasant, and Steve finds his blood thrumming just under the surface.

A languid breeze passes through, carrying on it a smoky woodiness and subtly crisp scent.

There’s something comforting in it, something familiar.

A sudden note of pine and rain steals the breath from his lungs. He exhales as if it was shoved from his chest, a dull pressure on his ribs and something akin to nausea swaying beneath his lungs.

He stumbles back, bracing himself against a nearby tree. Takes slow, deep breaths as the world shifts incrementally.

Steve blinks, his vision going fuzzy at the edges. The glow of the fire seems very far away, the sounds of the party even further.

Stay, says the voice in his mind.

And he readily agrees, swaying slightly as he sinks to the forest floor.

Under the dull roar of the crackling bonfire and whoops and hollers from the party, there’s a distinct sound of heavy breathing.

Your head turns to the left, closer to the party, and you narrow your gaze.

A body falls maybe a hundred or so yards away.

You’re on your feet before you can think twice about it, heart beating a tattoo in the cage of your ribs. Keeping your footfalls soft, you slow to a stop just as Robin’s mouth falls open in a soft gasp.

“Steve.”

He’s conscious but somewhat slumped against the trunk of an old oak tree.

Part of you knows that you should give them space, it is the polite thing to do, after all.

But a larger, territorial part of you snarls to say, “Stop,” as you stalk over to where he is.

Robin, curiously, does what she’s told.

He looks up at you, squinting eyes and furrowed brow, but says nothing. He takes deep breaths in and out, his chest rising and falling in equal measure, while your eyes rove across him.

There’s no copper tang in the air, and no broken skin that you can see.

Steve sits up a bit, appearing more alert than he was before. He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs, cheeks growing pink under your assessment.

“I’m fine,” His voice is syrupy thick and sends your blood surging. “Jus’ light headed is all.”

Robin hesitates stepping forward, eyes falling on you, as if for permission. You nod, not trusting yourself to snap at her, and watch as she crouches next to Steve.

Clenching your fists, you will the burning in your chest to subside.

Everything is fine, you try to reason, Robin’s just helping Steve get to his feet. She offers her hand to him and pulls him upright. He leans back against the trunk of the tree, eyes dreamy and hazy.

His lips kick up in an easy grin at the sight of you. Turned toward him, the firelight illuminates one side of your face, the other cast in shadow. Crossed arms, stiff posture your entire vibe screams ‘fuck off’ yet here you are.

Steve didn’t even realize a rager at Lover’s Lake would be your scene, but then again, where Eddie goes you tend to follow and vice versa. A lot like him and Robin in that respect. Still, it’s a nice surprise to see you there, lip worried between your teeth.

He wishes you wouldn’t do that, has half a mind to pull it from your glorious maw himself. Steve shivers and blinks owlishly at the thought.

“Thanks for uh…” He worries his thumb at the nape of his neck, searching for the words.

“Don’t mention it.” You say, incisors gleaming in the firelight.

Steve swallows, audibly. Blood rushing straight down at the sight of your pretty face, lips flushed, and eyes bright. God, he really shouldn’t have worn the Levi’s tonight— there’s no fucking give in these things.

He coughs and catches sight of Robin’s smirk. As you look back toward the crowd, she takes the opportunity to waggle her brows mischievously. Steve’s about to mouth something like ‘fuck off’ back to her when you turn back toward them.

“Robin!”

She turns and waves at Vickie who has two solo cups in her possession. Her eyes light up at the sight of the redhead, and it’s fairly obvious what’s about to transpire when you clear your throat to say:

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Buckley.”

“You sure?” She looks to Steve, questioning.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

You snort, “Right, sure.”

Robin’s pointy elbow lands in a patch of soft tissue on his side, just between his ribs. “That’s so nice of you!” She says brightly, “Isn’t that nice, Steve?”

“Uh huh, nice.”

“Be good,” She calls over her shoulder and melting back into the crowd.

An awkward beat of silence passes between you. Steve toes at the pine needles riddling the forest floor and grumbles, “I really don’t need a babysitter.”

“Well,” You say with a casual shrug. “I don’t see any babies that need sitting on at present so.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Mmm, clever.”

“I try.”

Joining him, you let your back rest against the oak tree, posture much more relaxed than when you first arrived. He can feel your breath as you exhale, the puffs of air brushing against his arm.

It’s a welcome distraction.

Because, let’s be honest, it’s not as if Steve really knows you. He remembers you, fleetingly, from the halls of Hawkins High— you and Eddie, bundles of frenetic energy careening from class to class. Loud, boisterous, and with an ever-present smile.

He remembers once overhearing the tail end of a conversation between you and Higgins about your “less than satisfactory” attendance. He’d been in the office with a doctor’s note or something, bargaining with the attendance clerk.

Higgins has his usual disdain written across his face, the stern line of his lips and arms crossed against his chest. You, however, were less than concerned. You shrugged on your backpack and left his office with a sarcastic salute.

“Aye, aye, cap’n!”

“Chief Hopper will be hearing about this, young lady!”

You turn, incredulous, “Oh," You lob back at him with mock sincerity, "Rest assured, sir, I’m shaking in my boots.”

And before Higgins can go postal on your ass, you dart past Steve and out of the office doors with a swiftness he could only envy.

So, yeah.

Steve and you had exchanged a grand total of maybe a dozen words the entire time you’d known one another. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for making any overtures of friendship.

Besides, you’re Eddie’s girl.

Everyone knows that, what with the way you’re attached at the hip most of the time. Your wardrobes are so intermingled by now, that Steve would bet good money you’d be hard-pressed to find a shirt that Eddie hadn’t wormed his way into.

He sighs, it’s better left alone.

Steve figures Robin will hitch a ride with Vickie or some band nerds whenever she’s ready to go and pulls his set of keys from his pocket. Before he realizes it, you’ve snatched the keys from his hand.

“What the—”

“Looks like I’m your chauffeur for this evening, Harrington.” Your tone brokers no room for argument as you twirl them in warm yellow light. “Where to?”

He trails after you, and your strides, oddly, rival his own.

“I really am fine,” Steve points out. “Seriously!”

You round the car and slide the key into the lock on the door, flicking your wrist to unlock the front cab. One hand catches the window of the door, resting casually as you wait him out.

“Sorry man,” You offer a non-apology with a shrug. “I’m not in the habit of distressed damsels driving themselves home.”

Steve colors at that, can feel the heat radiating from the tips of his ears.

“‘M not a damsel.”

“Really?” You drawl as you slide into the driver’s seat and slot the key into the ignition. “You nearly passed out a party, princess.”

And oh, hearing you say that should be illegal with the way it has his traitorous blood flowing due south.

He petulantly joins you in the car, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“If that’s not damsel behavior, then I dunno what is.”

The car roars to life, stereo playing a tinny version of “West End Girls” by the Pet Shop Boys as you navigate out of the makeshift parking lot. The sounds of the party fall by the wayside as you pull onto the country road that’ll lead back into town.

Steve resigns himself to his fate and lets his head fall back against the seat.

It’s dark on the outskirts of town, no street lights until you’ve passed the Millers' farm and enter into Hawkins proper.

Your fingers drum absentmindedly against the steering wheel as you drive, the chipped nail polish of your fingertips barely visible in the dim light.

And you’re not… unattractive. You’d just never really crossed Steve’s radar until recently, but that’s probably more to do his own headassery than anything else. You weren’t really his usual type— all closed off with stiff posture spliced and the chaotic stylings that come with being around one Eddie Munson.

Like a shower where you had to move the taps just so for the perfect temperature; sometimes you’re too hot, then in other moments too cold.

Steve could never really get a handle on that, how your demeanor could change in the blink of an eye. There was something more appealing about looking at someone like, say Chrissy Cunningham with her bubbly personality and kind eyes, than catching you in a mood, which can feel something akin to a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He can’t be bothered to make heads or tails of it as you roll back into town, the streetlights flickering through the windows of the car.

It’s there in an instant and gone in the next, and he’s positively sure that this isn’t some trick of the light.

Your eyes shift from their local color to something otherworldly, and he wouldn’t have caught it if not for the streetlight from the next house over.

“What?” Your tone is light, curious and absolutely nothing to be frightened of.

But watching as they shift again, from that luminous phosphorescence back to your normal eye color. It does something to him.

He slams the passenger door shut a little too forcefully and a bit too quickly. You raise your eyebrows at him over the roof of the car, tossing him the keys.

“You okay there, Harrington?”

He clears his throat and smiles outwardly.

“Yeah, totally.”

Because what is he supposed to say?

Actually no, I’m not fine because your eyes just like, changed in front of me? That’s not something that just happens, right? And how did you find me so quickly back at the bonfire— I couldn’t see you anywhere near me. Why is it that you smell so good, kinda how it smells outside after a rainstorm? And why is every instinct telling me to run?

“If you say so,” You nod and step silently from his drive, pink tongue gliding against a pronounced canine with a predatory glint in your eye.

Internally, Steve is both screaming and oddly turned on.

None of which, by the way, goes to explain why it is exactly that Steve is wandering the woods alone on the next full moon.

What could have possibly compelled him from the relative safety of his warm bed and into the cool spring night?

You, unfortunately enough.

It’s all your fault.

Because in an attempt to explain away the bruises braceleting your wrist to Robin, of all people (another go round with the new chains and repaired drywall in preparation for the full moon that weekend), you had settled on the completely rational response of:

“Oh, I sleepwalk sometimes.”

Her blue eyes blow wide, “Like, alone, at night?”

You nod and try to focus on the equations on the chalkboard as Mrs. G. drones on about something or other.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie chimes in from behind you, “Should put a bell on her or somethin’.” And his smile is that annoying one you’d like to smack off of his face, “Like a cat.”

And that was that.

Or, rather, that should have been that.

But Eddie and you were none the wiser as Robin relayed all of this plus the goings on of the band kids to Steve as he picked her up for work that evening.

“Yeesh,” He says, pulling into his spot behind Family Video.

“Yeah,” Robin says stepping out of the car. “And she was so normal about it. Like rambling around at all hours of the night completely unaware of your surroundings is a perfectly fine thing to do!”

Steve locks the car and follows her through the employee entrance to the store. He twirls his keys absently, trying to remember if he noticed any bruises on you at the bonfire last month.

She chats with Keith as he clocks out for the night, and shucks her bag on the sagging couch against the wall.

“What if they’re like, wolves out there Steve?”

So, yeah. In the end, he really has no choice about it.

Because there is definitely something out there.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #fic: itws #werewolf!reader

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 days

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Excessive Force : a Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter FOURTEEN ---> (all chapters)

trigger warnings: mention of police shooting, child trafficking, past childhood trauma, abuse, etc. plz take care!

“Are you serious?!” You have to move the phone away from your ear to avoid a blown drum from Sheila’s screech.

“Yup.”

“Okay, why don’t you sound as excited as me?”

“I’m nervous. He’s really forward. And, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” That didn’t end horribly… You’ve decided not to count the fiasco with Julian. You’re in your room, fingering through the limited collection of nice clothes in your closet. You briefly debate wearing a turtleneck and thick linen pants just to piss him off. But, also, there’s that little sundress you bought at the mall that you’ve never gotten a chance to wear… The pretty, soft color would pair very nicely with your silky cream bra and panty set—that you also have never worn. You’re starting to re-think the whole not being a prude thing.

Plus, it’s hot outside.

Sheila pulls you from your search. “Listen, if he tries anything, just kick him in the dick. Works every time.”

“He’s like eight feet tall. I don’t know if I can reach his dick… with my feet.”

You both giggle.

“That’s why they make step stools.”

“Like, for that exact reason?”

Sheila’s one of those people that has proven to be supportive. You met her on a bus tour your first week in LA and have been buddies ever since. It works perfectly since you both have hectic work schedules and don’t really expect anything from the other one. She calls you for drinks, you call her for lunch. Sympatico.

“Obviously. So, he’s tall. Is he hot?”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you think back to his bare, bruised body on your exam table, those mile long, strong thighs that caged you in and felt more like they belonged to an Amazon Boa rather than a man.

“Okay, that silence either means hell yes or hell no, so which is it?” You hear the grin in Sheila’s voice.

“First one.”

You end up telling her about his persistent hospital visits, him pulling you over, maybe omitting some—okay, no, a lot of the details just so she doesn’t want to kill him just yet. You also haven’t told her about the Julian debacle–or that Tom basically rescued you.

You also leave out that he just happens to be the new superhero on every news channel right now. You’re still processing that yourself, and it’s not boding well for you keeping your cool with this man.

As it turned out, it was the news that informed you of Officer Tom Ludlow’s whereabouts those lonely night’s you’d missed him harassing you on that lonely stretch of highway. He wasn’t ignoring you. He was rescuing two teenage girls who had been kidnapped and trafficked by a gang. According to the report, Ludlow had entered the house after hearing a cry for help, alone, and gunned down every single one of the gangbangers before setting the girls free.

Parts of this story should have alarmed you, but there had been a time in your past when you would have given anything for a person of authority to ride to your rescue, red tape be damned. How many times had the cops come to your house for a domestic disturbance between your parents, and left you in a bad situation because of some legal technicality or another? How had they seen you, scared and dirty, cowering in the doorway, and left you behind? The horrors you could have told them, if only they’d cared to ask without your parents there to overhear and threaten you, but every time until the last time, they’d just left you in the hellhole that had been your childhood home.

How different your life—your sister’s lives—would have been if you had a Thomas Ludlow back then.

The twin girls’ MISSING posters and billboards were all over the city. Most anyone with the power to do something had given up on them as a lost cause, just another sad story, written them off as tragically probably dead in a gutter, but not Ludlow. Ludlow had risked his neck (and possibly his badge, because you’d heard of the old “I heard a cry for help” trick to gain entry, and it was almost always code for “I didn’t have a warrant, what are you going to do about it?”, to get them out, and goddammit if that didn’t just warm you to your toes and soften your heart.

Worse yet, you feel like the biggest asshole for calling him a fraud, to his face, the night after it all went down. He’d just taken it on the chin, and he still asked you out.

Ok, he technically extorted you, but it just doesn’t feel as sinister now as it had last night. He’d been bold, and borderline needy for some human tenderness, and fuck if you didn’t understand all too well why now.

Now, rather than having to keep yourself from tearing him a new one, you were afraid you were going to have to restrain yourself from crawling into his lap at the first opportunity, and fucking his brains out for being such a goddamed hero.

“Oh, he’s a freak!” Despite saying this, she sounds like she’s twirling her hair and kicking her feet.

You snort. “He’s got..uh…nice hands.”

You decide on the sundress and the bra-panty set, but you don’t bother laying them out in preparation, because you’re still telling yourself that this isn’t that big of a deal and you’re not that invested and that if Tom Ludlow kisses you, you won’t burst into flames.

You want to take a bath, leave some scent of those seldom used lavender lemon oils lingering on your skin, but decide against it.

No. Actually. You’re doing it. Taking a nice, warm, spiced soak, rubbing lotion over every piece of you except the very sensitive bits, shimmying into the undergarments. The panties end up being cheekier than you like, but your butt looks cute, and the dress covers everything pretty good, anyway—well, everything that matters.

After putting your hair up in a messy bun and throwing some mascara on, you’re ready for—actually, who the fuck are you kidding, you are the opposite of ready. Borderline panicking at the thought of this man coming to pick you up and taking you out and putting on his lewd charm and ruining this cute underwear.

By the time he buzzes downstairs, it’s too late to decide on another pair of shoes. You have to live with sandals—with the fact that he might just look down and get a full, unfiltered view of your toes curling when he opens his pretty mouth.

You’re totally fucked, here.

You think it again when you open the door, finding his lean form all in black, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s already thinking about eating you up. You literally feel it as his eyes look you up and down, from your messy bun to your pink painted toes. It’s been two seconds, and already you are soaked between your thighs.

Doomed. You are just fucking doomed, and a part of you is just ready to surrender, because it takes so much goddamn energy to fight your attraction to this man. You can feel it like live electricity crackling over your skin.

Of course, there’s that other part of you that wants to run right back up those stairs and lock yourself away from this gorgeous devil.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but your brain takes a few seconds to catch up, utterly short circuited by how ridiculously handsome he is in his black button down, his dark pants belted low on his hips, those big feet in black boots. It’s a little strange, seeing him without his badge or his gun on his hip–but you can work with this.

“Hi,” you answer, scathingly clever as ever.

“Ready to go?”

You’d brought down your purse, to avoid inviting him into the private sanctuary that is your little shoebox of an apartment, but now you almost regret it.

“Yeah. Where are we going?” You step out the door, but he doesn’t move back, relishing your close proximity with a smirk. But there is a new softness in his brown eyes as he looks down at you that makes you a little weak in your knees. He reaches up to touch your cheek, feather light, and it boggles your mind how this man can be such a beast, and yet so gentle when he wants to be.

“You’ll see.” You narrow your eyes at him, but for once, it’s more playful than fueled by annoyance. “Relax,” he says, his shapely mouth dancing as he suppresses a smile. “You’re in good hands, honey.”

You don’t even flinch, as he drives this final nail into your coffin, the wave of desire inspired by the thought of those oh-so-capable hands and what they just might do to you tonight buzzing down your spine. This is how you die–you are strangely, almost, ok with it.

When he has you safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his sleek black Charger you look over at him, his long arm draped over the wheel as he navigates the hostile environment of LA traffic like a shark patrolling a reef. “So…I saw you on the news last night.”

He lifts one of those dark brows, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. “Haven’t really looked at what they’re saying,” he admits, like he’s used to the media getting the details wrong towards their own ends.

“They said that you saved two underaged girls that were being traffiked?”

His mouth turns down, and you wonder if you’ve killed the happy vibe of the evening so soon with your nosy questions. But then again–you need to know. It’s a gnawing curiosity in your gut not just for the events that transpired, but the man who orchestrated them. Who you are currently alone in a car with, so you reason you have a right to know.

“Yeah,” he simply answers, not keen to crow his own praises.

“And you…killed all those guys?”

He gives a sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. You sense a weariness in him that he’s never shown on the outside before.

“Yeah.” A long silence draws out between you, before he adds, “They were very bad dudes, y/n. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You can’t exactly say that you’re not–but ironically, the news of him shooting down those gangsters really has nothing to do with it.

“I’m not. I mean–if they were abusing those girls, then they deserved it.”

He looks you over then, an appraising look as though you’ve given him some new information about your character. Maybe information you didn’t exactly mean to give away, but it’s out there now. He’s going think you’re a kindred spirit–or a blood thirsty gremlin.

Either way, you don’t really want to discuss why you sympathize with those girls, and with him.

“Are you okay?”

This question seems to take him aback, like he truly wasn’t expecting it. He’s surely used to being a pillar of stoic manhood, but you know this shit takes its toll. “Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Thanks.”

You eye his hand resting on the center console, and a part of you very badly wants to reach out to him and take it. Almost as though he can sense it, or maybe because he wants it as badly as you do, he holds out his hand palm up in invitation. It’s possible you stare at that hand for a beat too long, his wide calloused palm and long blunt fingers. Long enough that he tries to play it off, starting to take it back, before you quickly lace your fingers with his. The way he smiles to himself sends warmth blooming all the way to your toes, and you’re glad he’s driving because they do, indeed, curl in your sandals.

You give him a little squeeze, relishing the way your hand feels so tiny and protected in his own, and say, genuinely, “I’m sorry. For calling you a fake cop.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard worse from people that aren’t half as pretty as you.”

You want to fight with him on that—scoff, roll your eyes—but you just can’t, because as much as that small, whiny part of your brain tells you he’s lying, the bigger, rational part absolutely knows just by the sincerity in his tone that he thinks you really are a pretty, sublime creature.

“But I still kinda think you’re a jerk,” you half tease.

“Mmmm, what happened to that feisty little thing I know? She change into a cute sundress and suddenly become sweet?”

You are loathe to admit the real reason for your change of heart.

“You wish.”

He chuckles. “Bet I can make you sweet.”

You’re a total idiot for what comes out of your mouth, and your underwear is the one that will more than likely end up paying for this mindless insolence. “How?”

He brings your hand up to his mouth, lips brushing over the thin skin of your knuckles, sending a spear of desire through your arm and into the rest of your body. You make a tiny choked noise when his tongue peeks a taste of your skin, going unfocused and fuzzy, radio static and full throttle cavewoman.

He kisses the center of your hand, then murmurs, “With sugar, silly girl.”

It's not only the panties that pay a high price, but also your throbbing heart, pleasantly tense and hot and full of desire.

He must find your slack jaw and blank stare immensely entertaining, because he’s laughing low and soft, rumbling in delight.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine.” There has never been a more heinous lie uttered in this entire state.

You’re fairly new to LA, but you soon realize from your surroundings that he’s taking you to the Santa Monica Pier.

You are thanking the universe and the gods when you arrive at your destination. Five more minutes—hell, seconds—trapped in that car with him and you would have climbed into his lap and started barking.

When he swings into a parking space designated just for Law Enforcement you turn to him with a lifted brow, as though to say, Abuse your authority much?

But you already know the answer to that. This date is a product of it. And so far…it’s not so bad.

“Do you like fish tacos?” He asks, keeping your hand and massaging that bulky thumb over your wrist.

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you made a reservation?” you taunt him.

“No reservation,” he informs you with a quirk of his mouth. “But the manager owes me a favor.”

He waves around the busy avenue and beach walk bustling with people, peppered with colorful shops and restaurants of every kind. “Pretty sure we can find you something you like, if Mexican food with an ocean view isn’t your thing…” He says it with a smirk, and you’re seriously not sure if you want to kiss this man or smack him. Maybe both, but save it for later, sings out the little devil on your shoulder before you can tell it to shut the fuck up.

Good lord.

You’ve heard of the restaurant–and that it’s famously hard to get into. You wonder if his connection is a product of a favor for a good deed, or a bit of blackmail. Maybe a little bit of both. You’re finding more and more that it’s hard to put this man in a single box.

“Honestly…?” You make him wait for it, and you can tell your effort to put this confident man on the spot only half succeeds, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

This evil, evil gentleman. He opens your door for you, helps you out of the car, stands patiently while you fix your dress, only half looks at your exposed thighs before you pull the hem down and cover them up again.

Then, he threads his arm with yours and leads you onto the pier. You can’t believe you’ve never taken the initiative to come here before. It’s beautiful, lit up like a modern carnival of neon lights.

“Oh, can we go on the Ferris wheel?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Let’s get some food in you, and then we can do whatever you want.” He really needs to stop being so…caring. It’s seriously starting to mess up your insides.

You turn into a fascinated kid as you walk down the salt coated slice of wood built out over the ocean, looking this and that way, pointing things out, mentioning possible after-dinner activities. You feel like you’re getting annoying, but Tom just seems amused by your sunburned tourist behavior.

You pass by a little shooting booth with huge stuffed bunnies hanging from the rack, and he must see the way you’re ogling them, so he leans down close to your ear. “I could win you one of those?”

You grin back up at him. “I can win you one.”

“Oh? Little sharpshooter?”

It sounds like he doesn’t believe you, so you stick your tongue out at him between smiling lips.

He pokes your forehead in retaliation. “Anybody ever tell you how fucking cute you are?”

The restaurant lives up to its popularity and then some. It takes a while to get here, but you just know it’s worth every foot blister when they sit you down and immediately serve a popped bottle of iced sparkling water and delicious, warm salsa and chips.

You made it just in time to catch the purple orange sun sinking below ocean level, and the front row seats really just make the view that much more spectacular. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if a dolphin jumped from the water, illuminated by the dying sun, just like in the movies.

“This is… amazing.” You grab some tortilla chips to munch on while he pours you both glasses of the fancy water. “Have you ever been here before?”

“Once.” He doesn’t elaborate, so you don’t want to push the issue, but you can tell there’s some kind of ache behind that simple word.

“Okay, so you’re obviously not from LA—where are you from?” He leans over the table a bit, curious.

“Kansas.”

He opens his mouth, but you stop him because you already know what he’s going to say.

“Don’t do it.” You point a warning finger at him, giggling like an idiot.

“God, but I really want to,” he groans.

“So,” you say, taking another bite of chip. “Why did you become a cop?”

“You start with the heavy questions, huh?” he teases you. “Thought I was the one who was trained in interrogation?”

You suppose he’s right, considering your earlier line of inquiry in the car. But you shrug in response. Considering how you ended up here, you see no reason to tiptoe around things. “Just curious.”

He offers up an easy smile, letting you know you didn’t offend him. “Well, I actually always wanted to be a dentist.”

You snort with disbelief, trying to imagine this man’s bedside manner. But then, dentists do get to cause people a lot of pain… “Ok. Maybe that tracks.”

“I’m fucking with you,” he informs you with a smirk.

You do your best to appear annoyed, and fear you fail at it badly. “Guess it’s not hard to imagine you pulling teeth, is all.”

He huffs at that. “I always wanted to be a cop, since I was a kid. My old man was a detective. Killed in the line of duty. I guess I felt like I needed to pick up his unfinished business.”

You blink at that. You and your big fucking mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for his hand across the table. He curls his fingers with yours, playing with your aqua painted fingernails with his thumb.

“It’s alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, saying nothing.

“What about you? What made you want to be a nurse?”

You don’t really feel comfortable enough to tell him your whole coming-of-nurse story, so you give him the cut version: “when I was young and felt like I had no one, a nurse comforted me.”

“How young?”

“Ten.”

He winces. “Maybe I’ll get the full version of that story one day?”

There’s an epiphany, here, in this little restaurant with the comfy blue chairs, and it’s that Tom Ludlow scares you because he makes you feel something deep, deep inside your chest that you can’t even remember being there before he came along. Julian was easy, child’s play; although it stings, you’re writing him down as just another failed fling. You know if Ludlow gets his hands on your little sensitive heart, it will be a very different story.

You take a big drink of water to wash down the salty crunch. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being so…cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you are so cold. Gonna have to make it up to me.”

Warmth floods the top layers of your skin. “I already said I’d win you the bunny.”

You’re amazed at how easily he can transition back into a smooth, carnal beast. “I don’t know if that’s enough for me to forgive you.” The fake hurt in his tone should not make you squirm in your seat.

You bite like a dumb, good little fish should: “okay, then, how do I make it up to you, Officer Ludlow?”

You’re hoping to faze him with the sultry innocence of your tone, but it just fuels his devilish aura instead. “We can start with me turning you over my knee.”

You don’t have a retort, but your vagina absolutely does, and she gets you squirming in your seat.

He leans forward, knowing smile sure to be your undoing one way or another. “Would you like that?”

“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You challenge, trying to keep cool despite the blazing Ludlow heat.

“Who says spanking has to hurt? Dr. Bitch?”

You can’t help the giggle that rolls out of you, and he seems to find it entertaining that you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “No, Tom, believe it or not, I am a grown woman who has lived an experienced life.”

“And how was it?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You know, when you asked one of your vanilla boyfriends to swat that gorgeous, plump ass a little bit? Just to see how it would feel.” He leans his chin on his palm, listening intently for your answer, and you think you might be on your way to spontaneous combustion.

How in the fuck can he just hit the nail right on the head like that? Know about parts of your life that you haven’t shared with anyone—not that there were many to share with. Are you really this readable?

Once again, he has your sharp tongue dulled with arousal and embarrassment, and you shift in the chair. “He did it, like, once and then stopped.”

“And did you like it?” He presses.

“Yes.”

He takes a little sip of his water, raising both dark brows over the glass at you. “Good to know.”

Tom recommends the margaritas and fish tacos, so you let him order for the both of you while admiring the view. You can’t decide which one you like better, his handsome face or the ocean scape.

As you are finishing your delicious dinner the last rays of the sunset are putting on a five star show for you, the sky painted that impossible deep blue and purple, the water shimmering like color-changing opals.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sigh, and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a softness you haven’t seen from him before. You get up the courage to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you, but for once not like he intends to eat you.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, sweetheart.”

“Goddammit.”

He laughs at that, a real belly laugh that makes you warm all over even without the aid of your two nursed margaritas. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to out shoot you for that little bunny now.”

This wins you more genuine laughter. “Alright, Annie Oakley. Lead the way.”

#tom ludlow #street kings #tom ludlow x you #excessive force street kings fic #tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow x y/n #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #julian mercer x reader #julian mercer x you #keanu reeves x you

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cosmiccandydreamer · 3 days

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This is a one shot that has been rotting in my brain 🧠 because I like to hurt myself apparently.

Alastor x reader

Too little too late.

You decide to accept Lucifer's proposal.

Sorry in advance everyone 😭😭😭

Warnings: sad alastor?

“So you're marrying him after all” his voice made you jump, it cut through the darkness like a knife breaking the silence. You looked around in an attempt to lay eyes on the demon but you saw nothing. You focused on the radio sitting on the table, sighing you ignored it. If he wasn't even here what's the point in even responding? You started to remove your jacket placing it on the chair next to you. “Hello Alastor” You felt his presence without even turning around, the static heavy on the air causing the hair on your arms to stand up.

“I asked you a question” You finally turned to see him standing there in all his glory, microphone in hand strained grin on his face eyes narrowed. “Yes I am and what are you even doing here shouldn't you be off doing a broadcast” the last word slipped from your voice with intentional venom. You leaned towards him as you said this, walking across the room to grab a glass and pour yourself a drink. “I care because we are friends are we not?” He asked eyes tracking you as you sat down on the closest armchair lifting the glass to your lips. “I don't know, are we? Because you have not been acting like it of late but then again who knows with you, your definition of friends tends to differ from mine”.

He was in front of you now causing you to jump. “ You can't be serious.. Lucifer of all people”. “What's wrong with him?” You looked at him now “he's kind, powerful, handsome” he scoffed “ he takes care of me he provides me with security and most of all he knows what he wants and it's me”. “Does he or is he lonely?” Alastor asked, moving a small step closer to you. “Does it matter? I'm lonely too”. You looked down now playing with your glass running your hands over the rim. Don't cry you told yourself don't cry don't cry. “How.. could you be lonely if you have me?” He asked, blinking back his tears, his smile fighting to fall. “But I don't have you..” you looked up at him now “I never had you did I? You leave without an explanation. I waited for you like a fool. You come back and still act like what we had was nothing. I can't wait for you to decide what you want from me anymore. Alastor I'm sorry”.

You stood now trying to pass him to refill your drink. He grabbed your arm turning you to face him, lifting your hand to touch the engagement ring on your finger that Lucifer had placed there earlier that evening. “Alastor I care for you I always will and I want you in my life but I can't be what I was not anymore”. He said nothing, just lightly stroking the ring on your finger. “He's not bad you know Lucifer he's a great guy I know you don't like him but he's good to me” Alastor just hummed before releasing your hand he finally looked up at you. “I understand I do, this is something I should have done years ago” Your eyes widen you open your mouth to speak “ y/n? Where are you honey?” Lucifer's voice rang out through the hallway. You whipped your head towards the door and then back at Alastor “I have to go” he grabbed your arm tight “Y/n please” Tears pricked his eyes his grip fighting to break through your skin. It took all the restraint you had to not run into his arms but you knew it would still be the same just an endless cycle of heartbreak. You pulled your arm away voice cracking “I'm sorry I love you I always will but I can't” you turned and headed out the door. Leaving him alone as the tears silently fell.

Not sure if this will eventually be a full blown storyline. I am going to attempt to dust off my old sketchbook and draw some artwork for this story. It's been a while so I am a tad rusty.

#alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel

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suratan-zir · 2 days

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I am currently down to 3 rats - Skritch, Baton and Cactus. With Cactus being on palliative care for a brain tumor. Initial plan was to wait until we have only Skritch left (he is the youngest) and switch to female rats, since Skritch is neutered that would be very easy to do. And I miss having girl rats with their crazy energy.

However…There is one lonely siamese boy in our small local pet store. He's been there for months, all alone, and there is very little chance of anyone buying him because he doesn't even come out of his house, and his tiny cage is pushed all the way back behind the counter, under a bunch of other stuff, so costumers can't even see him. The saleswoman says he's depressed and even rejecting food.

I have a big spare cage and all the necessities. So even if he never gets along with my other boys, he would have a place to live. On the other hand, I can't save every rat I feel sorry for. I don't even like siamese coloring, yet I end up having siamese rats in every of my rat groups (Cactus is siamese too), lol. But taking care of two separate cages is daunting. And it takes up a lot of space. And I don't think Skritch is gonna like a newcomer in the house. I have a strong feeling that introduction is gonna be difficult. Why am I creating problems for myself out of nothing?

#personal #poll

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emo-ratbastard · 2 days

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I'm thinking about mcd characters losing what gives them purpose;

As Aphmau becomes a better known Lord, she mediates and makes alliances with villages not only across Ru'aun but other regions as well. She just doesn't have time anymore to do anything but paperwork and peace treaties so she can't spend time with her kids and friends anymore. She is lonely.

Garroth gets badly injured, maybe he was hit in a sensitive pressure point in his arm and is now partially paralyzed. He can't pick up a sword anymore let alone defend his Lord and village. His armor is too heavy on his joints and muscles so he's stuck in regular, flimsy clothing. He's also not technically a guard anymore but everyone has silently taken pity on him by letting him continue to live with the other guards but it really just makes him feel even more pathetic and useless.

Laurance becomes completely consumed by the calling and the shadow lord. He no longer feels like himself, merely a shell. He is numb, watching the world fly by like a never ending bad movie. He knows what he's doing, who he's hurting but physically cannot stop himself. He terrorizes and plunders towns and villages with no remorse. He just misses his sister.

Dante becomes so engrossed in his duties that it drives a rift between him and KC. She kicks him out and limits his time with Nekoette. Nicole and him have become civil for the sake of Dimitri but they are nowhere near friends. Dante is lonely, he can't care for either of his kids and is constantly reminded of his failed relationships so he increases his shifts and spends all his time on patrols. He can't talk to Aphmau about his issues because she's also busy, causing him to recluse further and further. His reflection is looking more and more like Gene by the day.

Cadenza is also occupied with Lord duties. She doesn't have time to design or make clothes anymore. She prided herself in her creativity and finding fashionable loopholes with her own armor but after a too close for comfort assassination attempt, she is forced to wear traditional, clunky armor.

KC who is now a fulltime mother with Nekoette getting older is unable to bake in large quantities like she used to. She cooks, cleans, and takes care of her daughter and that is how she spends her days. KC was upset to have to kick Dante out but couldn't deal with the absence. She regrets keeping boundaries between him and Nekoette but believes it's best for their daughter to not rely on an absent father. With the lack of her baking, her magicks are stunted leaving her with a constant lethargic feeling as the power drains from her body.

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treefory · 2 days

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Came up with some lore for my bugsnax X slime rancher au

Half baked lore under the cut

So basically the expedition (13 strong) follows elizabert the space explorer to a planet far far away and settles there in order to explore the far far range. While there, her and her team farm slimes for profit.

Filbo the deputy mayor wanders around the ranch talking with its residents and making sure things are going smoothly but it’s not like he can really do anything if thing don’t. He doesn’t have any slimes because they all turn into tar at some point. He’s responsible for multiple tar outbreaks

Wambus the farmer attempts to farm the different fruits and vegetables on the ranch. Has an ongoing rivalry with Gramble because he doesn’t want to give up his chicken for food. He is often lonely from his wife triffany alway being away. Has a tangle smile

Beffica the socialite came to escape her crimes. Idk why she’s here lol. She has a couple of tabby slimes

Gramble came here to start a slime ranch But he instead has multiple chicken coops and each chicken has a name. Has an ongoing rivalry with wambus because he can’t give up any of hIs chicken to feed grumpuses with. Gramble takes care of wiggles crystal slime

Triffany travels the far far range in search of ancient history. When away from the ranch she can often be found in the ancient ruins. She has some rock slimes that her husband wambus takes care of while she’s away.

Wiggle came here not for money but for music! She travels the far far range for some inspiration for her next big hit. But back on the ranch she has a shiny crystal smile waiting for her that Gramble watches over.

Cromdo came here for the big bucks and is often near the plot collector thing. He keeps track of the stock market but constantly makes bad investments. He goes out and collects any plorts that he might find to sell. He doesn’t have a slime of his own but wishes he had a gold slime or a lucky slime

Chandlo came here to test his strength. He lives with his boyfriend snorpy on a mini ranch. He has an assortment of the more dangerous slimes that he takes care of, most of which are dangerous largo combinations but he’s strong enough to manage them all. He makes all the ranch stuff around the ranch

Snorpy is here because his friend (with benefits) Chandlo is here. He spends most of his time inside cooped up in his conspiracies and inventions. He is responsible for all your vac upgrades as well. He has no pet slime because he thinks they are works of the Grumpinati but has an “enslaved product of the grumpinati” instead that’s just a fire slime that lives in his forge. He mans the mechanical stuff on the ranch

Floofty the scientist is here to study plorts and how they could be used in society. Not sure if they cut their leg off in this AU cuz they don’t really have a reason to. They collect slimes that they perform experiments on. They’d have a pet tar if they could but instead they have a ranch of quantum slimes

Shelda the idk the spiritual one came to do fuck all. She hangs out at the ranch just straight vibing and giving guidance when needed. She says that she’s not here for money and to not give into greed but can be caught putting plorts in the plort thingy, girly gots medical bills to pay idk what to tell you. She has her own personal puddle slime

Eggabell is the ranch's residential doctor. She cares for everyone, especially her wife Liz. Tends to work with Floofty on their science projects that involve medicine to make herself feel useful. she gets a cute lil pink slime

Elizabert (Liz for short) is the ranch leader. She brought everyone here after she discovered the far far range. She often spends her days traveling around the island bringing back what she finds for the ranch and making maps. She has her own hunter slimes back on the ranch but keeps one that goes on all her adventures

At some point the journalist will show up and land at the wrong place. As they spend the night in their ship, slimes get in somehow and turn into tars wich end up kinda destroying the ship. But Filbo finds you then takes you to the ranch but it’s empty ofc. He says that Liz and egg went on an adventure together but never came back, then the fight happens and everyone leaves. Now you have to do his job and bring everyone back to the ranch.

But the real question is where is Liz and egg??? Man I don’t know but I still want hard boiled egg and Liz’s hunter slime to team up

And that’s it for now. I’d love to hear anything you might want to add!!

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therethatstar · 17 hours

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i can’t stop thinking about how phum is doing almost every single thing under the sun to show peem how he feels. everything except an actual verbal confession. and i think it runs much deeper than a guy who’s bad at expressing his feelings. because everytime he goes even slightly near any kind of verbal confession, he doesn’t necessarily back track but he’s kind of leaving it hanging midair. hoping that somehow the message comes across clear enough to peem. specifically that scene where he told peem that he simply just wants to have a meal with him. the pause that follows. the way his eyes follow peem’s reaction. the way he’s WATCHING peem and reading him. the micro expression of that split second of hesitation and fear of being rejected had me crawling up the fucking wall. because just how neglected was he as a child? just how lonely and isolated has he been all of his life ? to the point of hesitating to do something so simple like asking someone to share a meal with him. that fear of rejection seems so much more deeply rooted. yet even then, he’s still trying and maybe at time, it seems like he’s taking 2 steps back and 1 step forward and it might be frustrating for us audiences to witness. but he’s trying. he pays attention to peem and he listens to him and he’s willing to learn and be better as long as peem allows him. from the little details that we have of his childhood, he could have turned out so differently. yet he has the healthiest relationship with his brother and he’s sincere and genuine and honest. he doesn’t look down on people and he always reading the room and knows when to insert himself into any situation. he apologizes and he tries his best to learn from his mistakes. he wears his heart on his sleeves and he goes all in when he cares for someone. he has probably witnessed and has been through a toxic environment within the family dynamic and he’s doing his best to break that cycle. and i’ll be doomed to not root for such person.

yes, perhaps he got off on a bad start with us and with peem. he’s surely not perfect. he’s very much flawed. but my god, isn’t he trying to be better. because after all, was any of us born inherently good?

he’s absolutely becoming my favorite in this show and i will go to every extent to defend him.

#we are #we are the series

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stickthroughthephases · 3 days

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Bi-Han headcanons from the top layer of my brain

He's just my little guy, a little rough but he's basically harmless

Cannot cook (freestyle wise), BUT he can chop like nobody’s business and he can also be very thorough because of his perfectionist tendencies so if you give him a recipe you will have an edible meal

Not a huge inside pet person, but I think if you were to bring in a pet he wouldn’t be opposed to it, he just doesn’t see any reason to engage with the pet

You don’t go shopping together very often as most of the supplies come in bulk month by month or for dairy, weekly. He likes to accompany you when you go which is why he schedules a day off, finds visiting town useful to understand how everything is working in the area and if there are any local threats

Most meals he eats alone or with his brothers, because of a tight self-imposed schedule but once he has a partner, he makes an effort to have at least one proper meal which usually ends up being dinner, especially if they aren’t a morning person

As I’ve mentioned here, I’m not entirely sure these guys have a meticulous hair care routine but if their partner offers, Bi-han would have no problem letting them handle his hair (you have to build up to that because of this post)

If his partner is free for the day, and he is just doing paperwork or sitting somewhere, he would like to have them nearby, if you read to him or talk his ear off it makes him feel good because he has issues

Issues include not having enough quality time with family and he realizes how lonely it’s made him even if he tried to hide it so he makes up for it in subtle ways like eating with his partner or just having their presence a few feet apart

I don’t think he would like to shower together, I think showers are very standard for him to simply get clean and exit and by having another person it takes more time so…solo showers…unless…

Slow writer, he likes his writing, for official documents at least, to be legible and pristine so he takes his sweet time writing. Sektor got him a computer but he didn’t like that so they compromised on a typewriter and Bi-han built speed and now writing documents doesn’t take five million years

He has a GREAT memory, not photogenic but damn near close, however, you best hope you don’t do something offensive to him, he can forgive but he’ll never forget

His bun is too tight, and he gets headaches but refuses to change up the style because it's the only one that gets the job done (if it’s really bad you might just catch him with his hair down in his office, near the end of the day whilst he meditates or trains)

*You know that scene from Modern Family when Jay gets Gloria fluffy slippers and she becomes nice, yeah that’s Bi-han, he’s a bit more mellow and pleasant to be around when his hair is down which is…not a lot but still*

If you guys like these, should I write headcanons for someone other than Bi-Han...?

#mortal kombat #mk1 #bi-han #mortal kombat 1 #lin kuei #Trying to think of original headcanons that aren't a pawn off of another person is hard because too cold/mean and he's not even a person #Please excuse his behaviour #he had a rough upbringing : (

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almightygremlinblob · 13 hours

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Gojo Satoru HCs - Canon & Fanon!

⚠️CONTENT WARNINGS:⚠️ None, for the first part. Under the cut is when stuff gets weird. So minors and those uncomfy with anything remotely sexual don't click the "Keep Reading/Read More"! Will put another warning, tho. Just in case.

This is for my fellow Gojo girlies, platonic and romantic, because WOOOW 261 MAN. Sukuna's up next and then I'll probably dip again lmao. 💅🏽✨

Word Count: 855

Gojo Satoru HCs - Canon Gojo

A mix of HCs and character analysis, if Imma be honest.

1.) His arrogance is an act - both to himself and to others; although a part of him IS actually crazy. He grew up a spoiled rich kid, yes, but the weight of what he represented in the Jujutsu world has been ingrained in him since…well, he could conceptualize things. He is the strongest, and as such he is responsible for the world's safety (at least against curses) - it is in danger if he isn't. He's the strongest because he also HAS to be. 2.) Is definitely a boy dad to his students - guy OR girl. Though, like Nanami, he does try to make sure his female students feel comfortable around him; he's just more obnoxious about it. Not condescending...just obnoxious. Calls out and makes fun of the male students that make the girls uncomfortable, gives them more breaks if they specify that it's their time of them month and they need it, calls them a cab he can monitor to get them home safe (though he does this for all of his students, to be fair), or other stuff along the likes of that. 3.) Bisexual and Demiromantic, but his first and currently only love was Geto. 4.) Is apathetic to the weak because thinking about them would only weigh him down. Moreso than Suguru's betrayal, I think the deaths of his friends - who were arguably the weaker ones - really solidified in his mind just how important it was to be the strongest because it was so personal to him. The more he cares about the weak, the more he thinks about that instead of BEING it - it's an unnecessary weight. He only needs to focus on being the strongest, and then he can be there for the weak if they need him. 5.) HOWEVER, Geto's betrayal and Nanami's initial quitting only further served to isolate him, to prove to him that strength = loneliness. This is probably where his dream of creating more sorcerers equal to him in strength came from. Guy knows how lonely it is at the top, and doesn't want that for anyone else.

Gojo Satoru HCs - Fanon Gojo x Reader

These can be read as either platonic or romantic.

1.) Teacher has a faaaavoriiiittee…(if romantic then favorite other teacher, random person, sorcerer, NOT student)… 2.) Despite how bold he often is, Gojo shows that he cares and looks out for you in very subtle ways - whether that be gently convincing you to take a break when you clearly need it, standing in between you and the road, giving you his umbrella when it's raining (he doesn't need it - he kept it for you in case you ever did), carrying extra meds you may need on hand, or even just getting you a snack, coffee or tea when you need a pick me up. 3.) Congratulations, you now have access to a luxurious mansion(s)! Gives you the keys to one of his many estates. Come and go as you please. 4.) If anybody makes you upset, he won't do anything drastic per se but…he WILL embarass them, somehow - though he often disguises it as a harsh joke at the expense of the other.

Alright you know the drill. Minors and anyone uncomfy with anything remotely sexual DNI, and just scroll past. Don't click the "KEEP READING/READ MORE" if you don't wanna see all the sex-y stuff, and just go on with your day, furendo!

Fanon Gojo - Romantic

⚠️Further Content Warnings!⚠️

Honestly, not much LMAO. Mostly Gojo fluff, some mentioned sexual activities, and Sub!Gojo.

1.) Inexperienced with women. As much as I love the fanon interpretation of Gojo, he has probably never once touched a woman in his life, even if he and Geto were popular during their younger years. Guys though? Yeah you guessed it - he and Geto had each OTHER. 2.) Adding on to the point above, this guy is LOOYAAAAL when he finds someone that he truly loves. Just look at him and Geto. He has YET to move on after Geto 💔 3.) A golden retriever boyfriend. AND shares his sweets with you but he has to feed them to you. He HAS to. 4.) Guy is a needy, WHINY sub in bed. Loves to please and can stay seated in between your legs for HOURS as long as you praise him. Loud AF too and is absolutely shameless about it - it ruins everyone's day (except for you and him). Loves the wear the marks you leave on him like a crown and it's awkward for EVERYONE. 5.) Because he has so many responsibilities, and the Jujutsu world won't give him a break, you guys don't actually spend much time together - even moreso if you're a sorcerer, too. Expect missing anniversaries, cancelled plans, mismatched schedules, even nights without each other. Despite this, Gojo does try for you, he really does. He calls and texts whenever he can, sees you the moment his schedule allows, and brings home something for you every time.

I LITERALLY CAN'T WITH THE LEAKS PLEASE JUST TAKE THIS

#gojo satoru #satoru gojou #gojo jjk #jjk headcanons #jjk character analysis #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sub gojo #my writing

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crazycookiemaniac · 20 hours

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You know what? If anyone is concerned as to why I don't have a "real" job like most people, not that I owe anyone any explanation, I guess I should talk about this a bit. So, to anyone who cares:

First off, finding a job is not as easy as it seems. There is so much more than just handing in a curriculum, being interviewed so you can then, maybe, get hired. What about your experience? What about your confidence? What about your knowledge? And so on forth.

You can't just find a job because you want to. And, as a matter of fact, not everyone wants to work for companies to make the rich even richer, anyway.

I grew up being very naive. I never paid attention to what happened around me. I could barely make friends due to a bunch of circumstances that I don't think is necessary mentioning here, but I've always been a very lonely person, deep down.

I remember clearly watching my mom do the math on her notebook to see if the money she got was going to be enough for the month. I remember clearly how much I wanted to help her pay the household bills, and one of the first things I did when I turned 16 (age I could legally start working with my parents' permission) was try to become an English teacher at a small English school that was pretty far from home. The owner of the school, who said I was "undergoing training" to teach according to the school's method, never gave me a single penny for over a month that I wasted working for free until I realized he was using me and quit.

And then I kept trying. And trying. And trying. Worked for almost 4 months as a cashier at a retail store, worked as an eyebrow designer for almost 2 months, tried several different university courses, as well as other short courses over the time. I kept trying to find myself in anything and everything at the same time. I could never stay at one place for too long.

Meanwhile, during all these years... ever since I was around 12... I've never stopped drawing.

Art is the one and ONLY thing I've never given up on. Art is something I love so much, I've never wanted to even think about selling it because I firmly believed that what's made with love should be shared and not sold. But life made me realize that I didn't belong anywhere that didn't have a paper and a pencil.

Art is what I do. It's the only thing I can do. Christ, it's the only thing I LOVE to do. And even though I would love to have a second job, to learn more things... I don't have the confidence I can do anything else.

I've grown to know that I have ADHD, Bipolar disorder, and OCD. Since the end of 2020, my mental health severely deteriorated, and I had to go to a mental hospital in 2021 and 2022, as well as I had to go to a part time hospital in 2023. Because of everything that went on, my financial situation got really bad, so I've been trying to pay everything off with what I gain from commissions and donations I eventually get.

See, you don't have to like me. Feel sorry, much less. But some people need to understand that some things are just not as easy as it seems. Everyone walks their own path in life. I'm walking down mine. It's hard, not just for me but for everyone, but I'm doing what I can.

I'm not proud to ask for help all the time. I wish people would only commission or donate to me because they like my work, and not because they feel sorry. But I don't have any other choice. My family can't help, so I have to do what I can.

So, please. Try to understand that I'm doing the best I can.

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archivalofsins · 1 day

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The Futa and Mikoto dynamic in the latest minigram-

MILGRAM EP57 "Caffeine"

[57-1]

Mahiru: Would anyone like some coffee?

Yuno: Do you have any sugar?

Mahiru: Of course!

Yuno: Thank you very much.

Mahiru: Want some sugar?

roar

Futa: Why are you only asking me?!

[57-2]

Mikoto: I don't think she meant anything by it.

Futa: I can't keep my mouth shut when they want to make assumptions and treat me like a little kid.

Futa: It's bitter.

Mikoto: (Maybe it's because you act like this.)

Mikoto: It's a matter of taste.

Mikoto: So, I don't think it relates to being a kid or an adult.

Mikoto: Also, you should apologize later.

Futa: How about you then?

Mikoto: Me?

Mikoto: I've gotten used to drinking coffee.

Mikoto: It's not really a love/hate thing.

OVERTIME

ENDLESS PHONE CALLS

PILES OF WORK

Mikoto: Coffee was more like something like a must have...

Futa: ?

The way Mikoto says taste has nothing to do with being a child or adult. That mindset right there is why I believe Amane let's her guard down around him and allows herself to be childish when he's around.

21/04/16 (Amane’s First Trial)

Amane: …………

Mikoto: Oh, welcome back Amane! ……what’s with the grim face? Ah, right, the guard summoned you! How was it? Did you cry? I bet you were so scared you cried, right!?

Amane: ……alright then. If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get.

Mikoto: Huh? Oooi! Hey, are you listening?? Ooooi!

Along with why, when he became more standoffish in response to her verdict and she saw him being avoided, she began to avoid others. Turning people away when they approached her as she saw them not approaching him. So, she may have gotten the impression that others were only approaching her due to her age, not because they cared about her.

Something that could give further context to Shidou noting Mikoto and his behavior specifically in his second trial written interrogation,

Q.07 Are there any prisoners you get along with?

Shidou: Kayano-kun has become like that, and I can’t spend my time smoking at the moment, so the smoking trio has disbanded, which is a bit lonely.

Despite him and amikoto around this same time being drawn smoking together. Along with Kazui literally encouraging Shidou to take breaks in the timeline as well. Plus, Mikoto's change in attitude having very little to do with him not smoking to his own admission in the same answer. Like he states he just hasn't had the time to do it at the moment but starts with noting Mikoto's attitude isn't helpful. Probably because he thinks Amane is mirroring him and he's not srtying a good example for the kids. Which isn't his fucking responsibility since he's in a high stress situation for one.

Secondly, despite being like this, he's still better with kids than Shidou is. Let that fucking sink in.

Amane let's herself be childish around Mikoto because he's less likely to judge her solely based on being a child. Instead as he would treat her like any other person. He'd treat her as herself and someone he only knows about through their own individual actions.

Not base his judgment of her off of something she has no control over like her age-

20/06/13

Amane: ……what’s wrong, Shidou-san? Your hand has stopped marking. This is mathematics, so there’s no questions about the answers. If I got something wrong, please mark it with an X.

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad……

Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself? ……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead.

Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

Mikoto, in contrast, recognizes that Mahiru asking Futa if he wanted sugar had nothing to do with her treating him like a child. Instead, this was Mahiru being considerate and taking note of Futa's taste and behavior. Then giving him the opportunity to adjust his drink to his liking. Something that goes totally unappreciated because he gets upset that she didn't ask Mikoto the same thing.

When in all honesty I wouldn't put it past Mahiru to have taken a glance at Mikoto soulessly drinking his coffee and internally go,

"Nothing will make him like this drink. I don't even think he tastes it. There's hope for Futa though."

That's how neutral he is to it. Hell, he even admits he's neutral to the drink in this same conversation. Referring to it as a must-have or a necessity for his job. He's basically just drinking it because it's there, and it's now a habit for him to drink it when it's available due to the environment he was in prior to this. He just mindlessly with no real thought went hey there's coffee might as well get some then when asked went oh yeah I have no feelings towards this drink.

Leaving Futa there confused downright puzzled like of you don't like or hate it why did you voluntary get some as Mikoto is their having trauma flashbacks like,

"God the work, the hours, the phonecalls...coffee my only reprieve and fuel. The thing I needed but..."

Yet this also shows off something about Mikoto that gets overlooked. The guy is no pushover. Even though he doesn't want to be rude he will be direct and tell others when they mess up. Going ad far to tell Futa,

"You should apologize later."

While talking Futa through the mistake of tying taste to maturity.

Because that's a stupid thing to fucking do. Assuming having preferences when it comes to what one eats or a person has to eat a certain food due to their age alone and no other health reasons is stupid.

20/06/03

Futa: ……huh? What’s your problem? You’re just leaving all your meat? What a weird kid.

Amane: You say that, but you’re not eating all of your food either. ……are you not able to eat your vegetables? Even though you’re an adult.

Futa: Huh, what, so you’re just eating grass? What are you, a rabbit or something? Since you’re just a brat, you should be eating your meat properly. You won’t grow if you don’t.

Amane: ……you make some really funny jokes, don’t you, Futa-san.

Eat what you like regardless of age isn't a hard concept to grasp. Going I can't eat this it's too childish or drinking something a way you don't like to seem more mature is a waste of your own time..if it doesn't taste good don't eat if you don't want it politely decline. If you actually do want it eat it.

Mikoto respects Futa's behavior here but ultimately gets the point that Shidou has been failing to get with Amane. If the problem is the act of consuming certain things has been intrinsically tied to a person's age you should remove that pretense entirely by going,

"I don't think it relates to being a kid or an adult."

Taste is just taste. Instead of continually pushing like you're a child, children like sweets come have some pancakes. Can I tempt you into these childlike pleasures, Amane? Shidou they're fucking pancakes they don't have an age restriction you absolute tool. A lot of adults enjoy them, too. Shidou goes through every possible reason Amane should try these things while missing the point of why she ultimately doesn't taste it. Because he's arbitrarily decided she should like and try these things because she's a child and has consistently chosen to ignore the fact she declined.

Unlike Mahiru, who gets yelled at and just leaves. To the point that even Mikoto says Futa should apologize for that. This is why I find the dynamic between Amane and Mikoto, and Futa and Mikoto so interesting. Because when they get upset he stays leveled for the most part and gives them space to be themselves without outwardly labeling their mindsets as childish and immature. Because on some level he gets it which makes him more likely to talk it out to them like they're people instead pf just blatantly lecturing them about being roo childish or immature.

Instead of going you're acting like a child he'll just bluntly go its a bother having you be angry all the time in a way of seeking attention.

20/06/15

Mikoto: Hey, it’s kinda a bother having you be so angry and tense all the time. You should stop trying get everyone to pay attention to you. You’re a uni student, right? You can’t act like that once you start working properly.

Futa: Huh!? Shut up. Not like I care what you say. Even though we’re in this shitty situation, you’re just chatting away, it’s stupid. Aren’t you the one who’s acting out of place here? ……also the fact you give everyone nicknames is just gross.

Mikoto: *sigh* It’s more stupid to be taking this all so seriously. I mean, it’s definitely just a reality TV program. There’s no way a real prison exists that’s this lax. Also, I don’t give nicknames to everyone. I don’t give them to young kids like Amane, or to the hard-to-approach types like Shidou-san. I mean, I’m not giving you one, right?

Futa: ……oi, which group are you trying to say I am?

Futa "I don't care what you say" Kajiyama. Also how do you feel about coffee, which group do I fall under there. You called out my anger as attention seeking well the way you nickname people is gross.

*sigh*

Is right Mikoto it's absolutely right. Even when reprimanding him and bringing something adjacent to age Mikoto still focuses on social standing. How it won't be beneficial and instead inappropriate for Futa to behave how he is here when he does join the workforce. It's a perspective hard to combat because it's reasonable and straightforward. It's also something Mikoto doesn't have to say at all unless he is genuinely concerned in some way. Futa's behavior can lead to him being ostracized or deemed unapproachable and rude in a work environment who cares it's not his job to correct that. He can just learn the hard way like everyone else has to.

Haruka's social skills are kind of poor and could lead to problems with others.

20/06/05

Haruka: Ah…… ah, u-um, Mikoto-san. The c-communication……? thing, that you were saying was important. I-I thought, I’d give it my best…… Um, so, Mikoto-san, what’s your favourite food……?

Mikoto: Ooh? Nice going, Haru-kun~

Yeah, we still have no idea how long this lifestyle will go on for, so it’s best if we all get along together here.

My favourite food…… I like pasta and horse-meat sashimi. Also bubble tea, and recently I’ve been big on custard puddings. What about you?

Haruka: ……ah, I, I wonder…… H-hamburg steak, and omurice, a-and also…… what else? Ah. Cotton candy……

Mikoto: C-cotton candy!? That’s the first time I’ve met someone who has that in their top three favourites!? ……man, Haru-kun, you really are hilarious.

Who cares it's not his job to tell him how to practice that or make sure everyone is communicating well with others. He is in this weird situation it would ve so much easier to just keep to himself and mind his business. Like Kotoko does at the start but instead he behaves in a way similar to Mahiru.

Yet, instead of just talking with others to include them, Mikoto gives them pointers on how to further include themselves. Whether they're talking with him or not. He goes well- Here are these tools that could make communicating easier and more beneficial to you. This is important to setting the right atmosphere now off you go. Then when it works out he's proud of them.

He states they've grown and changed into good people and he doesn't shove the thing in their face or even take any credit for it.

22/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday)

Haruka: Mikoto-san. Um, are you ok……?

Mikoto: Ah, Haru-kun. It’s been a while since we last talked, huh. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you doing ok……?

Haruka: Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been enjoying myself, a lot. Um, I’m sorry, for avoiding you. I was a bit scared. Of you, honestly……

Mikoto: Ahhh, yeah. I’ve been lashing out whenever I go to sleep, right? ……it’s fine. Even I think you’re right to be scared.

You know, I kinda just hate that I don’t even know what’s going on myself…… haha.

Ah, but despite all that you still came and talked to me because it’s my birthday, right? Thank you, you’ve grown into a good man.

Then he just continues living like oh that's good proud of you for coming so far back to the suffering I go now.

Haruka: Wait you said you were fine.

Mikoto:

Even when it comes to welcoming Amane back and seeing that she was upset after her interrogation. Why was Mikoto the one who did that and not Shidou?

Why did Mikoto see Amane being quiet and clock that something was up and not the guy literally attempting to force himself in a parental role over her. Why was it when Amane was actually upset he was the only one to take a second and go hey are you good oh wait yeah the interrogation of course you're upset- my god it must have been terrible for you!

Why was he here in regard to any of these situations? When literally anyone else could have been noted. Because Mikoto, unlike Shidou and possibly to Shidou's annoyance- Is good with those Shidou regards as children. When he talks to Amane, she listens and takes him seriously. She even takes notes when Shidou talks to her he gets pancakes thrown in his face. This is all because Mikoto's way of speaking respects that someone is a person first and doesn't emphasize the things they don't have control over and may be sensitive about.

Outside of blatantly telling them like here, being an adult or a child isn't tied to things like that. Because it's not tied to food preferences it's tied to the choices we make and why. Anyone can be a better and more considerate person if we just work on communicating properly with those around us. That sort of mindset and knowing when not to rub someone's face in something because he doesn't rub in Futa's face that he complains about the drink being bitter after complaining about being asked if he wanted sugar which at that point he clearly needed it. No he keeps that's shit to himself and just thinks pinpoints what caused Futa to respond in such a hostile way and goes I don't think that's how that works. He goes to the root insecurity and goes no what you like to eat is not tied to whether you're a child or an adult. It's just what you like to eat or don't.

Which is really good on so many levels and highlights so well why he does get along with most of the younger prisoners.

#milgram #mikoto kayano

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