#drawing red and blue triangles and crying

[renmorris]

thinking about Stanley being institutionalized in the context of Same Coin Theory. in the throws of an intense psychotic break, remembering things that tear at the walls of his human brain. thinking he’s back in the theraprism. an intense sensation of dysmorphia, displacement…

perhaps even a sudden loss of coordination, like he isn’t sure how to move his body around anymore.

maybe he’s picked up after a suicide attempt? point is, he’s checked in and his mental health deteriorates rapidly. shadow out of time energy.

[milkymars]

Everything we know about Bill Cipher's past so far

His home was called Euclydia and it was entirely two dimensional. ("Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams.")

Bill was unique among his people because he had a mutation that allowed him to see the third dimension. This can mean that either a) Euclideans don't have eyes and Bill is the only one who had one or b) if they did have eyes, he literally had a third eye.

Bill's parents were most likely named Scalene and Euclid. Entering either of their names into the computer gives the prompt LIFE FORM NOT FOUND. Bill is stated to only draw red and blue triangles in art therapy, so those were probably their appearances.

From the code JUSTFITIN, you get this colour-coded poem:

Rock a bye billy Please don’t you cry It’s not your fault You have that strange eye Stay safe with mommy You’ll never fall And we’ll always love you Sharp angles and all

Bill says that everyone in Euclydia loved him. However, it's more likely that he was feared because of his mutation and talk of a third dimension. Bill has said numerous times that love and fear are the same, and if you enter WELLWELLWELLBEING into the computer:

Bill's parents took him to a doctor to help suppress his vision of the third dimension. This has been discovered through the codes on the silly straw page:

Fussy eater, baby Billy / Wouldn't drink unless it's silly The doctor says three sips a day / Will make the visions go away Eye doctor of a different kind / Who wants to make his patient blind Twisted out of shape after the kill / The ghosts of his family are haunting him still

Bill is responsible for the Euclidean massacre. Reversed audio on the website says that "the sky is on fire", and when Bill talks about liberating his dimension, his eye shows a fiery landscape too. Though he claims to have liberated them both in Weirdmageddon and the transmission with Time Baby, he is regretful and misses home. If you type in EVENHISLIESARELIES, you get a transcript of one of his sessions in the theraprism.

And from the axolotl's poem in Curse of the Time Pirate's Treasure:

When he tells Ford about his home dimension, he says that it was destroyed by a monster. And when Ford says that he could seek out the monster and get revenge on it, Bill replies: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." Bill also says that if he tries to talk about the day Euclydia was destroyed, there's a loud buzzing in his ears and he blacks out for 30 seconds. Still, he tells others that he freed everyone and that they are grateful for it. Until he gets drunk and starts calling out for his mom, asking her where she went...

[lvmimis]

cw: love triangle. hurt/comfort.

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest still as you fumble your keys into the ignition of your car, your pulse probably fast enough to fuel the engine on its own. Tears that only pricked at your eyes earlier as you stormed out of the Fortuna branch Devil May Cry van now run freely down your cheeks, and you hate that you look a mess for something so stupid, but you feel stupid overall.

You’re nothing more than a passing distraction after all. Harm to a sweet girl, temptation to an otherwise good man. You knew better, you’ve known since you were very young, and here you are, crying and trying to get as far as you can because you let your guard slip just once.

The engine finally thrums to life despite the delay, as if providence itself wants you to slow down and think about what you’re going to do next, but as you step on the ignition, you find yourself lurching forward, the rev of the engine loud and clear, but the car going nowhere. In fact, it appears to jerk briefly backwards, destabilizing you - you should really put on your seatbelt - before its wheels settle back in place.

Stunned for just a second, you step on the gas again, until the same thing happens, and then it occurs to you. Your head snaps back to the rear view mirror, and there he is, glaring right back at you, sky blue eyes red rimmed themselves to match yours as one hand grips tightly on the rear bumper of your car, willing it to stay in place, while the other hangs loosely by his side.

You grip the steering wheel, then stick your head out the window.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

Nero doesn’t respond, and as you stomp on the gas one more time, the engine roars again, but the car continues to make absolutely no distance forward. Overwhelmed with frustration, you find yourself groaning loudly, then shout again.

“You can’t stop me from leaving!”

You stomp on the gas again, but he’s rock steady, and you lay onto the horn, a cry of aggravation not for help - you don’t need help, but you need him to know that you can’t stand him right now.

“Grow up, Nero!”

At this, Nero does flinch a little, enough that the flame of your anger flickers just a little, and he averts his eyes so that he’s looking off in the distance in the night. This clearing is relatively empty save for your two vehicles - Nico is off to sleep in a real bed at a nearby inn several hundred feet away, and the two of you had aimed to talk for a few moments longer under the stars, but of course, that devolved into the current scene.

How could he not have told her?

The softness still retained in his voice as he reassures Kyrie over the phone that he and Nico are okay, the very passing mention of you being around as well. It all makes you feel disgusting and impure and pathetic, especially when the taste of his lips is still so very present on your tongue.

You’re not built to not care.

Nero inhales deeply and lets out a visible exhale, still not letting go in case you attempt to speed off once again.

“Just let me explain it to you. Please. Once I’m done, if you still want to leave, I promise not to stop you.”

Biting your lip enough that you almost draw blood, you contemplate this for a moment. The steering wheel you grip tightly feels safe and grounding. You squeeze, then press your forehead onto it, letting the coolness seep through your skin. A few moments pass, and you can feel Nero watching you from behind, growing concerned, but you turn the ignition off, then raise your head. Before you can open the door he’s beside you, almost a bit too fast, but he senses your intent and opens the door for you, stepping aside as it swings open.

His eyes are still teary red. 

“Listen, I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Your posture is closed and impenetrable, arms crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow, and you don’t have to say the words before he understands them, pronounced clear as day in his head.

You’re doing a terrible job of it.

“It’s just-” he runs his hand through his hair, distressed, pleading. There’s a hunch in his back that’s unnatural for such a proud man but you say nothing, open to hear whatever excuse he has to offer before you can ridicule him. 

“I can’t end things on a phone call.”

“Then don’t touch me,” you snap. He opens his mouth in protest, but closes it immediately in resignation. 

“Right.”

He bites his lip, before letting his loosely held fist rest against the hood of your car as he stares at the ground.

“Don’t play games with me,” you murmur.

He looks at you again - really looks - and you almost feel bad for calling him a coward just moments ago as you gathered your things. You can imagine the insult is replaying in his head even now as he stands before you. 

He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a coward. In this, he’s more careful than anything, unwilling to hurt his loved ones.

“It doesn’t have to be me,” you know. Your arms tighten around your own body again, keeping you safe and warm and together. “I’ll get over this… whatever this is. As long as you give me time.”

He quickly interjects.

“It has to be you,” he insists. “I… I know it feels different when I’m with you, something more than just…” he trails off.

He’s being careful with his speech, out of respect, out of love. The words a soft landing place come to mind. Home, peace, sanctuary… those are the things Kyrie is for him, and you should never intrude upon that. You can’t offer him that. You’re tumultuous and moody and you’ve only softened down your rough edges over time, you’re not a natural, unblemished smooth surface.

“She’s what you need,” you admit, even if your voice breaks at the end.

“Please,” he starts, reaching for your hand before thinking better of it. “Just… just let me be the one to tell you what I need.”

Someone has to pay for the upset roiling in your chest, you feel, but it’s not solely his fault, nor even your own, really and definitely not hers.

“Please don’t run away from me,” he asks of you, in a voice, softer and more desperate. “I won’t-” he pauses, then regains his voice, “touch you again, not until I’m face to face with her and tell her the truth.”

Your lips press into a thin line, and he tells you what you’ve always wanted to hear from him.

“I need you. I want you.”

You think of Kyrie again, guilt eating away at you.

“I don’t really want to make you choose, Nero,” you admit, your voice croaking. The tears you hold back start to make their way back to the surface. “I kind of wish we’d never met.”

“Don’t say that.”

An edge in his voice returns ever so slightly until he recomposes himself with a deep breath.

“Please, don’t say that,” he reiterates, the hurt vibrating in the thrum of his voice. “You’re not making me choose. I already did choose, and I promise to do a better job of following through.”

You can sense the longing in his hands that move towards you but never quite reach, based on the invisible barrier of your consent (or lack thereof). You’ll allow him just this once, reaching for his right hand first, and placing it where he wants it to be, on the curve of your right cheek. His lips fall open gently, and his thumb wipes away an escaping tear.

“I’m a bad person,” you whisper.

He’s not supposed to touch you so the most he allows himself to do is open his arms as you step in closer, tucking you under his chin.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You want to argue, but instead you hold him closer, letting your selfishness win at least for just a few more moments.

Maybe you won’t run away, not just yet.

[beansprean]

"So, how did Guillermo get started as Nandor's familiar?"

"Nadja and Nadjita Tell It"; my entry for the Rashomon-style AO3 collection "So How Did You Two Meet?"! Check out the other fic and art entries to see the other characters' perspectives!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Nadja and Dolly wearing matching pinkish-red gowns with dark blue sleeves sitting side by side in armchairs in the foyer, stairs twisting up behind them, as they do a talking head. Nadja tosses her hands up and scowls, rolling her eyes, and says 'Guillermo? What was that, 80 years ago? How should I remember?' Dolly has an open pack of crayons tucked into the chair next to her and has a stack of paper as big as her torso in her hands. She scribbles on it with a red crayon and clicks her tongue dismissively, replying, 'I remember everything. Let me show you.' 1b. Tight shot of Dolly's eyes in extreme closeup in the foreground, Nadja waist-up in the background. Nadja turns toward Dolly with a frown, one hand held palm up beside her head, and points out gently, 'But you weren't even there, my sweet little piglet.' Dolly responds, eyes focused on her paper, 'Then tell me if I get anything wrong.' 1c. Medium shot from the front, focused on Dolly as she smiles and turns her paper around to show the camera a clumsy crayon drawing of the vampire mansion. Nadja leans on one arm of her chair and ducks her head to get a closer look. Dolly begins, her speech bubbles turning into gilded scrollwork, 'Once upon a time...' 1d. The panels are now parchment paper with crayon drawings. This one depicts Guillermo, his body made of a single circle with a head on top and stick arms and legs with little circles for hands and feet. There is a big frown on his face, and behind him is a house shape in green with double doors and a P on the front followed by ellipses. Dolly's voiceover continues: '...there was a sad, round little human man with broken eyes who had a job at... uh... P...Pan...' Nadja's speech bubble appears, now in curly pink script: 'I believe it was Panda Bread, agapoula mou.' Dolly: 'Ah, yes! He had the job making breads from the panda milk, one of the most lowly forms of human labor.' 1e. Repeat of the previous drawing, now with a few additions from Nadja with a pink crayon: the building is titled Panda Bread, Guillermo is holding a load of bread and has a tear in his eye, and arrows are pointing toward him reading 'sad' and 'virgin'. 1f. Drawing of Nandor, whose body is made in the same style but shaped like a triangle, kneeling on the ground and weeping loudly. Pink additions: smell lines, a long dick and balls between his legs, and text that reads 'Oh I am so lonely and I smell bad because my last familiar fell off the roof or some shit'. Dolly: 'Meanwhile on the Staten Island, there was also a pathetic, empty-headed buffoon of a vampire who spent every night crying about how lonely and smelly he was.' Nadja: 'That sounds right.' 1g. Dolly: 'And his beautiful housemate, Nadja-' Nadja: 'That sounds very right!' Dolly: '-kicked him in his ass and said 'Get out of here and don't come dragging your balls over this doorstep without a familiar to take care of you!' The page shows a slightly more detailed drawing of Nadja with full lips and long eyelashes and waves of glorious hair in a big fancy dress, arms and legs held straight out. Nandor, still crying, is crouched over in the foreground as one of her heeled feet kicks him in the butt and sends him flying. Pink additions: dick and balls on Nandor and text that reads 'owie my penis', larger boobs, earrings, rings, and fishnet stockings on Nadja and sparkles surrounding her entrance.

2a. A drawing, torn off on the bottom, showing Nandor standing with his arms out and mouth open in an O, hearts in his eyes as he sees Guillermo crouched by a crudely drawn panda with an udder, milking it into a bucket. Pink additions: Nandor's dick standing at attention, surrounded by hearts; Guillermo surrounded by stink lines and hearts. Dolly narrates: 'So the sad vampire went to the Panda Bread and found the delicious virgin. The vampire wanted to eat him immediately! But he had promised Nadja to bring back a familiar.' 2b. A drawing, torn off at the top, showing a series of Guillermos working: holding a loaf of fresh bread, sweeping the floor, and dusting the wall with his back to the viewer. Nandor stands nearby, pointing a finger in the air with a big grin as he gets an idea. Pink additions: stink lines and hearts around Guillermo, buttcheeks on the dusting Guillermo, Nandor's dick pointing straight up. Dolly's voiceover continues: 'And though he noticed that the virgin worked very hard, he smelled much too yummy-scrummy to bring home alive. So the vampire did the only thing he could do...' 2c. Briefly back in reality, a close up of Dolly smiling and holding up a paper with a single crayon drawing showing a naked Guillermo lying on the floor with his mouth wide open and his legs straight up, Nandor crouched between them. Pink additions: buttcheeks on Nandor, tit and a small dick and balls on Guillermo, text reading 'ooh ahh master' and 'i love you human man'. 2d. Drawing torn at the bottom showing Nandor and Guillermo, now dressed, holding hands and smiling in front of Nadja, who towers over them and gives them a thumbs up. Pink additions: hearts surrounding Nandor and Guillermo, limp dicks on them both, a crown, bat wings, rings, sparkles, bigger boobs, and fishnet stockings on Nadja. Dolly narrates: 'Once his cherry was thoroughly popped, the vampire brought his new familiar home for Nadja's approval.' 2e. Dolly's voiceover continues: 'And then she and her husband fucked all night with no weepy loser to interrupt them!' Drawing, torn at the top, of a naked Laszlo laying on his back on the ground smiling with his arms straight up in a cheer. Nadja, also naked, is straddling him backwards with her arms also up. Pink additions: hearts all around them, crowns and rings for them both, chest hair and tits for laszlo, tits and bush for Nadja along with bat wings, a crude interpretation of their genitals entwined, text by Laszlo reading 'i love my wife', text by Nadja reading 'finally i can be the little spoon'. Dolly's narration concludes with a fancy 'The End.' 2f. Back to reality; repeat of the first panel, wide shot of the foyer with Nadja and Dolly sitting beside each other. Dolly is proudly holding up the final drawing with a smile. Nadja grins at the camera, left elbow braced on the chair arm and idly twirling a blunt pink crayon in the air as she declares, 'Yeah, that was pretty much it. No notes.' /end ID

[sleepyking]

Exactly one person said they wanted this so-

(Might find more eventually idk)

BILL/CIPHER/BILL CIPHER - EYE OF PROVIDENCE WIKI

ALEX/HIRSCH - FLANNEL GOOGLE SEARCH

GRAVITY FALLS - “NEVER HEARD OF IT”

MCGUCKET/FIDDLEFORD - COTTONEYE JOE

PINES - “A GOOD FAMILY TREE”

DISNEY - “RAT.GIF CENSORED FOR YOUR PROTECTION”

BOOK OF BILL - “HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE”

EUCLID/SCALENE/SCRIMBLES - “LIFE FORM NOT FOUND”

EUCLYDIA - “DIMENSION NOT FOUND”

TANTRUM - BILL & TIME BABY CONVERSATION

TRIANGLE - “TRI HARDER”

WHO ARE YOU - “I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION”

PORTAL - “PORTAL.EXE HAS BEEN DELETED. I BET YOU COULD BUILD ONE”

DEATH - “LIFE’S GOTH COUSIN”

LIFE - “72% COMPLETE. NOW LOADING: DEATH”

CLONE - PAPERJAM DIPPER, SUBTITLE: HERE, HE’S YOUR PROBLEM NOW! JUST KEEP THIS GUY AWAY FROM LIQUIDS!

SHAPE/GREECE - ANCIENT GREECE ARTICLE

T J ECKLEBURG - “NEVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN”

BYE GOLD - “BYE!’

YOURE INSANE - “SURE I AM WHATS YOUR POINT?”

AXOLOTL - “YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS”

WEIRDMAGEDDON - NEWS ARTICLE

FORGET THE PAST - COLOR CIPHER: TWO DIMENSIONS, TO AND FRO. YOU ALWAYS NOW WHICH WAY TO GO. IF YOU’RE LOST DONT BE AFRIAD, IN EUCLYDIA YOU’VE GOT IT MADE. RUN TOO FAR TO RIGHT OF FAME, YOU’LL APPEAR ON LEFT AGAIN. JUMO TOO HIGH DONT CRY OR FRET, YOU’LL POP UP FROM THE GROUND, I BET. IN THIS SPACE THERE IS NO FEAR, LOVED ONES WILL BE EVER NEAR, ROLES AND RULES ALWAYS CLEAR. EUCLYDIA, WE HOLD YOU DEAR.”

RIDDLE - “WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?”

BLIND EYE - EYE EXAM; “THEY’LL SEE, THEY’LL ALL SEE.” “EUCLYDIAN DEPARTMENT OF VISION SUPERVISION.”

THEYLL (ALL) SEE - “IS SEEING BELIEVING?”

BABY - PREGNANCY SCAN

QUESTION - ANSWER

ANSWER - QUESTION

HOLOGRAM - UNIVERSE

WELL WELL WELL BEING - “PATIENT FILE: BILL CIPHER. GREATEST LOVE: HIMSELF. GREATEST FEAR: HIMSELF.” “ART THERAPY NOTES: ALL HE DRAWS ARE RED AND BLUE TRIANGLES.” “PATIENT’S ODD PHOBIAS: 3D GLASSES, VENETIAN BLINDS, TV STATIC.”

REALITY - “IS AN ILLUSION”

NAITSUF - SOUL CONTRACT. “YOU KILLED US ALL. REMEMBER US.” “SOMEONE HELP. THE MURDER’S NAME IS BILL.”

VALLIS CINERIS - “WHY DID YOU DO IT?” STATIC!SCALENE AND STATIC!EUCLID HOLDING LITTLE BILLY

STANLEY PINES - BRASS KNUCKLES GOOGLE SEARCH. GOLD CHAINS FOR OLD MEN GOOGLE SEARCH. DOGS PLAYING POKER GOOGLE SEARCH. 8-BALL CANE GOOGLE SEARCH. MALE GIRDIE GOOGLE SEARCH. SHRINER FEX GOOGLE SEARCH. COLONEL SANDERS TIE. WHEEL OF FAME; “HOW HE BEAT ME” CHANGES.

DIPPER - LETTERS TO DIPPER FROM BILL, CHANGES

MABEL - STICKERS, GRADUALLY ADD; “LAB NOW FULLY MABELIZED”

WADDLES - PIG PLACEMENT WEBSITE

HELP ME/GOD/SAVE ME - VIDEO OF BILL STATUE

SEASON 3 - SEASON 2

SEASON 2 - SEASON 1

SEASON 1 - SEASON -1: ANTIGRAVITY FALLS

SEASON -2 - SEASON 1

SEASON -3 - SEASON 2

JOURNAL 3 - THE JOURNAL FOR ME

TOBY DETERMINED - RESTRAINING ORDER

DEER TEETH - “FOR YOU, KID!”

PACIFICA - LETTER FROM PACIFICA

RIDDLE - “WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?”

YES - “WHATS MCGUCKET’S FAVORITE SODA?”

MOUNTAIN DONT - “WHATS A MEDIEVAL HOMONYM?”

LIAR LYRE - “THE 20TH INGREDIENT OF ANTI-CIPHERIZING TONIC?”

HAROLDS RAMBLINGS - “HOW IS CLOWN REPELLANT MADE?”

UNION MADE - “BILL’S GOVT FILE NUMBER?”

29121239168518 - “WHO COMES FROM ZIMTREX 5?”

GREBLEY HEMBERDRECK - “WHATS ON BILLS FLAG?”

RAT - “THURBURT’S NUMBER?”

3466554 - “WHAT LEAVES A THIN LINE IN THE SHOW?”

TINSEL SNAKE - “THE 6TH OPTION ON BILL’S EDITING SOFTWARE?”

TORTURE MENTALLY - “NAME AN UNPRONOUNCABLE WIZARD”

XGQRTHX - “WHERE DO TRI ANGLES COME FROM?”

333 SUNDAPPLE LANE, COZY CREEK, IL, 60714-94611 - “BILL CIPHER’S LAWYER?”

MULTILEVEL MARK - “WHO DEFEATED SILA BIRCHTREE--?”

EMMALINE BUTTERNUBINS - “YOU’VE EARNED A TREAT! ENTER ‘DISPENSE MY TREAT’ TO DOWNLOAD”

DISPENSE MY TREAT - DOWNLOADS ZIP FILE BILLS FILES DO NOT OPEN!!.ZIP

FORTNITE - “LIFE PRIVELAGES REVOKED. NOW REALEASING POISON GAS.”

DUCKTECTIVE - “DUCKTECTIVE STARS IN “LOVE, QUACKTUALLY” COMING TO: “OI, THIS IS COCKNEY, INNIT?” THIS FALL”

BLENDIN - “TIME AGENT LOST AND PRESUMED INCOMPETENT”

GIDEON - AWFUL RECORDING OF GIDEON HUMMING

ROBBIE - MESSAGES BETWEEN HIM AND HIS FRIEND GROUP

ABUELITA - BEST VACUUM FOR WALLS AND CEILINGS YOUTUBE VIDEO

MASON - SCRACTH PAPER DIPPER WROTE ANAGRAMS ON

CRYPTOGRAM CODEX - DOWNLOADS ZIP FILE CRYPTOGRAM CODEX.ZIP

BOOBERRY - QUESTION MARK MADE OF WORDS, TITLE “THE MEANING OF LIFE”

LOVE - AUDIO BOOK OF “TABITHA LUSTHEART”

GOODNIGHT SALLY - BILL SHIRT, “KEEP ON POSSESSIN’”

CURSED - FIND OUT YOURSELF, I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO BEGIN EXPLAINING IT

TITANS BLOOD - “HOOT HOOT. PASSWORD PLEASE”

CURSE WITTEBANE - BILL CIPHER OUIJI BOARD(?)

PLATINUM PAZ - PACIFICA’S DREAM

VIRUS - THEPLAGUE.PDF

ADASTRAPERASPERA - JOURNAL PAGE TITLED CIPHER’S CORPSE?

GUN - “OH YES OH YES OH YES THEY BOTH”

OH YES THEY BOTH - “REACHED FOR”

SORRY - PICTURE OF FORD AND MCGUCKET WHEN THEY WERE YOUNGER

SPOOKY - AUDIOBOOK OF “SPOOKEMUPS”

SKELETON - “THE ONE WITH THE SWORD! HE FOUND YOU!”

MYSTERY - “?”

MYSTERY SHACK - CONFUSION HILL GOOGLE SEARCH

BLACKSHEEP - BILL BASICALLY DOES DRUG DEALING

BAAAA - “LETS RISE FROM THE GRAVE, LETS WALK IN OUR SLEEP. WHAT GOOD IS A SHEPERD WITHOUT ANY SHEEP? WE’LL START AT THE END UNTIL WE BEGIN. THERE’S ROOM IN MY THRONE, IT’S TIME TO FIT IN.”

CARD - BILL’S BUSINESS(? I ASSUME?) CARD

IRREGULAR - BILL MUGSHOTS

THERAPRISM - “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, DO NOT USE ELEVATORS” SIGN

DIPPY FRESH - REDDIT NOSTALGIA??

OROBOROUS - LOST JOURNAL 3 PAGES ABOUT THE AXOLOTL

SOOS - LETTERS WRITTEN BY SOOS

STANFORD/FORD/SIXER - FORD’S MEDICAL REPORT

Lmk if you’d like to see the pictures from the zip files:))

Anyways my soul belongs to Bill Cipher now

[starrz-n-waffl3-fries]

Some head canons for The cruel game of life characters ⭐️

Hiro🧪

Doesn’t know his right from his left

Likes to pack lunches for Ian and zero sometimes, especially likes to put dumplings, kimchi, and sushi in there

Is way too much of a nut about eating healthy And will force at least some veggies in said lunches

He sounds like a fox when he cries

He also laughs like a fox

Look me in the eyes right now and tell me he takes showers every day, I’m sorry you can’t convince me that he does, every Saturday and Sunday for sure

Horrible at shaving, and the only reason why he even has facial hair

Wipes chemicals on his lab coat despite the many health risks that come with that, bro does not care

Favorite shape is a square, favorite color squares come in is Either green, yellow, or blue

Farsighted, his goggles have the prescription for that in them

VOICE CRACKS

Probably has Twitter

has several mental breakdowns a day trying to cope with what he sees on Twitter

Has a fear of public speaking

Ian🥪

Swears a lot, Almost to a surprising degree

Runs into things a lot And cries every time because he bumped his nose in the process

Sometimes bites himself out of curiosity if he’s grown poisonous to himself, Hiros very disturbed by this

Whiny bastard, almost as bad as a child

Five second rule doesn’t exist to him

Is physically repulsed by the fact that he sheds And cries out of overstimulation from how itchy his scales get when he does

Genuinely loves the packed lunches that Hiro gives him and zero

A little intimidated by hiro in a positive way

Favorite number is nine

Favorite shape is a trapezoid, His favorite color that it comes in is the same as his actual favorite color, green

Draws sometimes, horrible at it because he hasn’t figured out writing or doing anything with a pencil in this hand

Probably illiterate

Fidgets with the scales on his tail when he’s really bored

Has had a tendency to eat dandelions, gets scolded by both Canary and hiro, while Zero encourages to down a couple more

Zero🔫

Favorite genre is Dad rock, convince me otherwise

Sometimes traces his scars During PTSD flashbacks to ground himself

Refuses to cry if he can help it, but not because of toxic masculinity, but because that would mean he would have to clean the inside of his mask and he’s worried he will mess up the wiring in it

Cannot spell Mustard, cat, or cheese right, will write ‘[redacted]’ instead to avoid embarrassment

Likes his scars because he sees them as proof that he’s gone through something and he’s not being a dramatic whiny bitch, and will get irrationally anxious when Something doesn’t leave a scar or a Scar fades(definitely not self reflecting, shut up)

Dyed his hair in middle school, got his ass beat by his mom, never again

Surprisingly good at math!

HATES vegetables, especially celery. Will throw out Hiros packed lunches and pretend he ate it

Thought the confederate flag was the American flag until Hiro LOUDLY scolded him for it and explained it’s origins, never again

Sometimes forgets how old he is

Suicidal in the “I’m not gonna actually do it because it’s a stupid solution to my problem, but goddamn” way

Resents his mom, loves his dad

Favorite shape is a triangle, favorite color it comes in is red

Put his hair up in a man bun every so often

Kyete🩸

Probably dyslexic?

Sometimes steals things from hiro just to get him to come over and retrieve them so he can hang out with him

Has a tendency to scratch the back of his neck when he’s nervous, this is subconscious

Paints his nails on occasion

Favorite season is fall or winter

Had glasses at least some time in his life

Germaphobe probably, Extremely bothered by gunk and it impresses Hiro every time he comes over his house because of how spotless it is

Favorite shape is either a heart, circle, or a flower, and loves when they come in red or blue

Favorite flower is a spider lily

Attempted to be a gardener one time, immediately gave up as soon as his first plant died

HATES the texture of slime or anything similar, will cry

Loves water! Relaxing to him, despite him being a cat

Favorite Animal crossing villager is Jitters

Does the “making biscuits” thing that cats do and bites hiro as a form of affection

[moochou-eats-paper]

no way am I crying over bill cipher lore

(WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE ONLY DRAWS BLUE AND RED TRIANGLES IN ART THERAPY :,( )

[finn-m-corvex]

Find A Word!

Hey everyone! I was tagged by @lightning-chicken and (inadvertently) @weekend-whip to dig through my WIPs and find eight different words: snap, blue, echo, flicker, dance, horror, flood, and opposite!

I'm going to go ahead and tag @splinnters @impulsivefanwriter @taddymason and @rainofthetwilight! Your four words are: beam, pillar, angry, and blood.

Upon saying that, we have seven current WIPs of mine to look through, so let's do it! (Only using five)

[Disclaimer: I don't edit my works till after I finish the draft, so none of what you're about to see is properly edited and will look different when I eventually publish it]

snap - Even the Earth Trembles (Ch2, waiting to be published)

Fire and ice were set in stone. You would know when ice began to form or when fire started to spark, but you could never guess when the earth would start to shake or when the lightning would strike. If you learned Kai and Zane well enough, you would be able to tell when they were about to snap or cry or scream or sob, but there was no telling when Cole and Jay would break. Did he and Cole have signs? Yes, but they were mere precautions, just like the recurrence rate of earthquakes that people thought could be used to predict them or the theories about where and how lightning will strike an area.

He knew spontaneity, and Jay knew Cole.

blue - Would You Like to Enter Prime Empire? (Ch5, waiting to be published)

“Not exactly.” Scott grabbed the top map and slid it over so everyone could see. It was vibrant shades of green and blue, with a large gray smear that looked like a storm cloud rolling in. Jay could make out a raging river separating a forest that almost looked like it had no end, only coming to a stop at the edge of a huge cliff-face. The cliffs were huge and jagged, almost guaranteeing your death if you happened to fall from its heights. But the most striking thing about the map was the large maze-like structure at the top of the cliffs, adorned in dragon imagery that Jay found vaguely familiar. Where had he seen it before?

Pointing to a large green circle on the other side of the river, Scott’s face soured. “This is where the portal will spit you out when you go through. Following the path, you have to make it across the river, through the forest, up the cliffs and then find your way through the maze.”

echo - Would You Like to Enter Prime Empire? (Ch5, waiting to be published)

“Yes sir,” everyone echoed, and Jay helped Scott to gather up the papers and other supplies while the others walked away in pairs. He glanced at one of the drawings that had three animals in a triangle shape, carefully looking at the symbols sketched out on each. He recognized the symbol.

Lightning.

“Scott,” he called, holding the paper out to the mechanic. “What are these?”

“I don't know.” Scott traced a finger along the one acting as the tip of the triangle: a dragon. “This one is a dragon, obviously, and I think this one,” he pointed to the right corner, “is a goat, maybe? I'm not sure what the last one is, though.“

flicker - What Would You Wish For? (Prologue, unpublished)

Lights flickered to life, and Jay threw up his arm to cover his eyes from the sudden brightness surrounding him. When his eyes finally figured themselves out, Jay lowered his arm, looking up towards the ceiling with a curious expression.

There was a golden statue hanging from the wall in front of him. He looked very stern, a carefully trimmed moustache and beard on his face, his suit and tie immaculate in the golden light. It was just the man’s torso, no legs to be found, and a red banner was hung in front of him, attached to the walls on either side. It looked like it was up there after the fact, almost like whoever built the tower forgot to put it up when they were mounting the statue.

“No gods or kings, only man,” Jay read, eyes roving over the statue. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Jay couldn’t place him; maybe he was in one of Jay’s past history textbooks? “What kind of communist manifesto nonsense is this?”

dance - Mechanical Hearts (Ch1, waiting to be published)

Freshmen were swarming on the sidewalks, coming from the dorms on the western side to make it to their classes. Most of them scurried along at top speed, desperate to not be late on their first day of big boy school; Jay knew that it wouldn’t last long. Just because he didn’t live on campus didn’t mean he wasn’t familiar with the old song and dance of being on time to class.

Something told him that the student services building was going to be packed, and he hated it when it was packed.

He also hated being right.

Cole grimaced when he saw the mob of kids standing outside of the building, pulling the car over to park next to the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of people, huh? Guess a lot of kids are having trouble this year.”

horror - Lightning in a Cubicle (Part 4, waiting to be published)

“Say, Cole,” Jay started, cutting his rant about the horrors of cardstock paper short, “would you happen to know anything about a group called the Ninja?”

Cole choked. Sora looked slightly alarmed and quickly whacked him on the back, Cole finally catching his breath and looking at Jay with wide eyes. “What?”

“If you’re from Ninjago, then you should know who the Ninja are, right?” Jay continued.

“O-Oh yeah,” Cole scratched the back of his head, “I guess you could say that. I, uh, actually knew them before the Merge happened?”

“What was the girl like?” Jay asked, fiddling with his sleeves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu, even though he knew for a fact that he had never been in this kind of situation before. “She’s really pretty, you know.”

flood - What Would You Wish For? (Prologue, unpublished)

What was this wet stuff on his overalls?

Before Jay could contemplate it anymore, there was a loud sound of metal ripping apart, and he barely had time to take a deep breath before the cabin was flooding with water.

The water was freezing, rushing in and filling the cabin in mere seconds. The salt stung at Jay’s eyes, and he groped around the closest wall until he finally found a small hole from where the window smashed in. Everyone else was yelling for help behind him, but Jay was blind with his eyes slammed shut, so he had no idea how he would’ve even begun to go about helping them too. And for some reason, he didn’t feel very inclined to help them after they basically ditched him in the crashing procedure.

opposite - Even the Earth Trembles (Ch2, waiting to be published)

So you would think that if Cole was having sensory issues, Jay would be the first person that he would go to.

But he didn’t.

Which was really the opposite of what Jay wanted to happen. Rather than go to Jay for any sort of advice or information on how to help himself. Cole decided that the better option was to withdraw into himself and pretend like everything was fine. And what made it even worse was that Jay could feel Cole struggling to cope with it. Every time Cole would turn down physical contact Jay felt his heart squeeze, even though he knew that it wasn’t really what Jay was feeling. Empathy sucked sometimes, but it sucked even worse whenever there was someone bottling something up; Jay always, always knew when his family was doing that.

[anistarrose]

[Image description: art of Bill Cipher through the ages. He starts as a baby, looking happy beneath a dialogue bubble that reads: "Tell me about yourself, Bill."

He grows into an older kid and starts to cry, before bursting into flames. Then, he looks surprised to be worshipped by the Henchmaniacs, before taking on a confident and gleeful expression. He strikes a deal with Ford, and laughs as Ford devolves into paranoia.

Lastly, Bill's form starts to warp and glitch. He ends in his Theraprism outfit, with a bloodshot eye, drawing red and blue triangles. A dialogue bubble from offscreen reads: "Let's stop for now." End ID.]

a long list of regrets

[arthistorywithelys]

Shape Composition (2/2): Order

I'm not sure if anyone else has done this before, but I didn't see anything similar in the student examples. I will simply assume it hasn't been done, despite its visual simplicity.

In the interest of brevity, the top of this post will contain only the information necessary for grading. Should you be interested in seeing it, I have elected to include more in-depth documentation of the process below the cut.

I began by drawing my 8x10 space, covering the edges in masking tape, and covered the remaining space in titanium white. I then took a 4x4 square painted in mars black and cut it into triangles, pasting each triangle in a square formation, as seen above.

Now, this piece took me an abnormal amount of time. I know cut and paste assignments are supposed to be quick and uncomplicated. Unfortunately, when I began to plan the composition as I always do, the idea grew legs of its own and I had no choice but to follow it.

Here is the original concept, drawn hastily in my sketchbook to use as a reference later on. You will notice that the size of the area I drew is proportional to the 8x10 rectangle.

This is the skeleton of the project. It's also the mouth of the rabbithole I fell down while I was coming up with ideas.

The piece is meant to be viewed in tandem with another assignment for this class, as they are thematically linked. This one in particular is inspired by the geometric concept of flipping a regular polygon along an axis over and over again. The axis, in this case, being one side of each square. Visual guide below.

* The lines in red are the axes. The other colors are there to show where each square was cut from.

As I was developing this idea, I noticed something interesting. If you were to draw a point that bisects every individual axis, you end up with a fibonacci spiral.

This took me a long time because a project of this nature requires a level of precision that is just not humanly possible. Even being as meticulous about it as I could, the squares still aren't perfect. I also had to adjust the placement of the triangles so that they wouldn't go off the page, resulting in a more extreme curve in some places. (I chalked it up to the fact that it's in a 3:4 aspect ratio, which a fibonacci spiral isn't exactly suited to fit in.)

I think if I were creating this digitally, or at least with different tools at my disposal (i.e. laser cutter, projector, 9:16 frame, more comprehensive understanding of trigonometry, etc.) then I'd be able to create something that is more in line with what I was aiming for— technical perfectionism. The closest I could get without spending hours on calculations that would make Pythagoras cry was with the following method:

I took a ruler, compass, protractor, pencil, and an exacto knife.

I measured the side of the square, and placed the point of my compass along one vertex, swinging it to create a quarter-circle that touches both adjacent vertices.

I repeated this process on each vertex.

I then found the points where two of my curved lines met, and drew a point.

Taking two points parallel to each other and using a ruler as a straight edge, I drew two lines that are perpendicular to the edges of each square.

The points where each line bisects the edges of the square create the diagonals along which I'd be cutting.

** This is a separate square of paper, made strictly for demonstration.

The dots in blue are the corners where I placed the compass. The yellow dots are the points where I laid my straight edge to create the perpendicular lines, and the red lines are where I would cut with my exacto knife.

You may have noted that I stopped at 7 squares when I seemingly could have kept going. Unfortunately, as the pieces I was working with got smaller and smaller, so did comfortable room for error. In theory, the pattern is a fractal, and can extend off into infinity despite being derived from a finite area. I wouldn't know how to recreate that without breaking several laws of physics, though.

[meowihart]

I need to be studied by scientists please.

I want them to scan my brain and look at the images and show me pictures of my brain and I want to see my brain and I want the smart people to see my brain and study it and say “Wow you have such an interesting brain! We must study you!” And then I say “Yay! Please study me please please!” Because I want to feel special and also because I want to know everything that’s wrong with me.

So then I live my life in a white room. A white room. You know- the white room? You know! The light. The ever expanding. Endless endless. I get lost in my enclosure. But then they open the door again.

The let me out and run some tests.

I color in some shapes. I tell them that circles are red and squares are blue. Triangles are yellow, but everyone knows that already. I laugh, but they don’t laugh with me. I stop. I look away, ashamed. I cry. They write things in their tiny notepads. I apologize, but they reassure me, “You’re doing fine.” I stop crying.

Then they have me solve a maze. First they gave me a paper. “It’s blank,” I said.

“Flip it over.”

“Oh..” a maze. A maze! Oh I love puzzles. I go through paths in my head, eliminating the easy dead ends. I look at the start and finish points and solve from both ends, joining the two lines in the middle. After I’m finished I draw little hearts in the white space of the worksheet. I like the pen. I mean- Of course I would. I chose this pen. I did. They laid out a whole row full of pens.

Standard pens- red, blue, black.

Colorful pens- pink, purple, blue.

Some are hard. Plasticky. A few rough, a few smooth and shiny. Some have a more silicone texture, kinda rubbery.

I alternate pens a lot. I have certain phases of pen if that makes any sense at all. I’m quite fond of certain textures and that fondness ebbs and flows constantly. Right now though, I use a black pen. A black ink pen I should say- the pen itself is a kind of dark red. Hmm, yes, this one- yes. This one is nice right now.

I never pick the pencil.

At some point after I finish the maze they interrupt me while I’m drawing on the page. “Yes, yes, well done. You solved it, good job. You are very smart.”

I smile.

I am smart.

“The next test is ready, come with me.” So I follow them to the big room. The one where the more physical tests are held. The room is set up as a maze. They don’t tell me what to do, but I do it anyways. I struggle with dead ends, but I brute force my way through. Just stick to the right. Just stick to the right. Eventually I reach the end. They applaud. I soak in the attention. I get cubes of food as a treat. Why do they bother to cut them into perfect cubes, I wonder… It is good though. Good size. Predictable. Hard edges. Good.

Later they take more pictures of my brain. They study them again. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong per say- you’re just-“

“Why am I built wrong?”

“There is no wrong way. Just a standard and an alternate approach.”

“But I feel wrong.. I know I’m different- I don’t feel bad about being different necessarily. I’ve always known I was weird- ever since I was a little kid- but I never really felt directly ashamed of it. But.. I’m different BECAUSE I feel bad. Normal people don’t feel bad. Not the way I do.”

“We know.. that’s why we’re trying to fix things.”

…

I speak up again, “Will I ever feel normal?”

They don’t answer.

#Ineedtobestudied #pleasestudyme #shouldicamel casethis

[theragethatisdesire]

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

-

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

-

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect? 

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars. 

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean’s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.” 

-

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him. 

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren’s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want. 

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests. 

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night.. 

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

[mycartoonmonster]

No one is born a monster; that includes Bill. Like it or not.

Yeah, it was messy growing up there but that doesn't mean he hated his home and everyone in it.

I think he knew on a subsconcious level that his parents only wanted the best for him even if the way to go about it was wrong.

If Euclydia was similar to Flatland's society; his family was already in a low rank as they were all triangles. Add having a freak for a kid and you now have a lot of peer pressure on you to fit in with the rest. And Bill might have been aware that he was different (wrong in everyone's eyes; heck hes the opposed color of what mixing blue and red gets) and that was a problem for his parents but he couldn't help it.

And unlike Ford, Bill didn't have any support like Stanley was to him. And most likely suffered bullying too but he only had his mom to cry to.

Also throughout some codes and couple of sentences in the book and website, his mom, Scalene, was the one closest to him.

We have a song dedicated to Bill written by her (Rockabye Billy-it´s in the color code that briefly shows in the JUSTFITIN Video), Bill calls her first when he's drunk and sadly asks where did she go, Time Baby ticks Bill off by nearly mentioning his mother's name and he closes off the second they bring his parents as a topic of discussion in Therapy. Other instances are his fear of TV Static and dislike of 3D glasses as they remind him of his mom and dad, who he draws in therapy (prolly cause its one of few things keeping him stable)

If the death of his home and his parents meant nothing to him, would he have reacted in that way even if there was no reader to convince with a sob story in what we see in the page?

He hated how he lived there, how society treated him but not the place nor the people around him like his parents. Heck some of the stuff he says to Ford when possessing the zombies could be Bill projecting like "Oh, come on, Sixer. We both know you really dont want to be left alone. Admit it, you LOVE how important I make you feel" and "Nobody else really gets you do they? Without me, you´ll always feel unseen, surrounded by dolts who dont recognize your true potential. You´ve always felt alone in a crowd, haven´t you?Who else will give you this feeling again? Even if you got rid of me, you´d miss me. Admit it, you´d miss me" Bill even references that growing up in his dimension was tighter than Ford´s chain that restrained him, surrounded with flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams. Basically being a fish out of the water. An alien in his own home.The odd one out. The freak.

The JUSTFITIN code shows us what he truly wanted, be happy with his family and be normal, to fit in with the others.

THEY´LL SEE leads to Seeing is Believing?

And VALLIS CINERIS leads to Child Bill being held by his parents while a voice asks him "Why did you do it?" (Also its heavily implied his tophat was originally his father's and its theorized his black bowtie belonged to his mom)

The FAMILY MATTERS leads to Did I do that?

Lets not forget he did it when he was very young. Can you imagine how much trauma that is? Losing everything just for a well intentioned cool trick to show everyone he was not crazy and have it go horribly wrong ending up an orphan and being covered in their blood as a kid?

He just wanted to show them the stars

Deep down he wants what the henchmaniacs do; to go somewhere they can call home, but Bill can never return to his. He can never get that feeling of belonging again, at least not with his henchmaniacs cause their friendship isn't truly sincere.

He did find it or the closest thing to it with Ford, though.

Which could also explain why he wanted Ford back so much despite the betrayal, giving him many chances and later offering to join him in Weirdmageddon and granting him enough power to be a true god. Cause even if huge part of the relationship was Bill manipulating Ford, Bill seemed to genuinely like Ford at some extent. No matter how many his lies he spews.

Probably cause he was the closest to a true companion/friend he ever had. He didn't have any friends back home and most likely spent his entire childhood alone with no one that understood him the way Ford did. Not to mention, they were friends for a year and a lot can happen in a year, so having this special bond of being seens as freaks by society made them grow close. (Even more if we consider Ford as Bill's first ever friend-which is incredibly sad on both sides, knowing how things ended for them in canon)

Close enough for Bill to tell him what truly happened with his home, unlike with the rest of the henchmaniacs who despite their bond with Bill they are more like typical villain henchmen (with Bill mentioning in the AMA that he hates Kryptos) so Bill knows that if he can provide chaos and fun, they will stick with him. Save for the oracle, who prolly saw how messed up he was and left the gang. Its cool, he has the rest.

But Bill cannot bring his family back nor go home again but he can at least keep Ford, better as an ally but as a golden statue its just as fine.

In itself their relationship was like a more twisted and damaging yaoi version of Gideon and Mabel. Where there was genuine interest but it soon turned sour and one begun pressuring and harming the other (Gideon's case was accidental, he truly loved her he just didn't know how to get her love in healthy ways and Bill kept pressuring Ford, taking over his body and harming it as well as getting Ford into trouble as petty revenge like messing with the authorities, the Flirty Girl Tattoo, eating spiders among others like messing with his neourons and nerves to making him forget stuff or cause him unimagineable pain cause he thinks love and fear are the same and he still has his goal with the portal) but still loved them enough to give them as many chances as possible to join him and keeping them as a prized possesion with as much power as them.

Gideon despite wanting to take over the shack he still gives Mabel the chance to join him until he forces her in the S1 Finale as she was the first time he felt that kind of attraction/connection towards anyone and he doesn't seem to have many friends save for the ones he did in jail which also parallels Bill and Ford's story. Just that unlike Bill, Gideon learned to get over his pride and own desires for Mabel´s safety and love. Something Bill won´t ever do cause he refuses to recognize his mistakes and get better cause that means acknowledging his issues. That he is truly affected by what he accidently did to his family and his home, that his friends dont really care about him and that he lost Ford; that he is absolutely lonely. Cause that means recognizing that hes hurting and letting himself feel the pain of his actions, even those that were on accident, would destroy him emotionally as he's left only with these negative feelings and the reality he can't turn back time and fix things.

Bill said that no one would miss Ford if he died but the same can be said for him as he's got no family nor supporters and the Henchmaniacs seem to be doing fine without Bill after Weirdmageddon and haven't called him nor bailed him out of there. (He also projects not only on Ford but also on Pacifica who also was forced by her parents act in certain ways but deep down is a sweet kid, kinda like he was at one point. They had a similar childhood but at least his parents had good intentions and loved him deep down) (Also the "impending patternity test" could be one of the things Bill got called as when he was a kid by bullies)

He's the one who needs others not the other way around. And deep down he knows it cause he´s a monster.

But he's got no one. And its all his doing. And that's eating him inside. But refuses to admit it.

In words of an axolot;

Says he's happy

He´s a liar.

Very tired of people who continue to argue that Bill destroying Euclydia was completely on purpose and he didn’t care about anyone at all because he’s just trying to garner sympathy in The Book of Bill, despite all the supporting evidence outside of Bill’s words that allude to how deeply traumatic it was, (so many, many things about) how he loved and misses his parents, how much of a sore spot the topic is for him, how much he wants to return home but can’t, etc. in addition to how perfectly Alex and co. crafted a parallel narrative between Bill and Ford, including how they hurt the people they love out of carelessness and blind pursuit of their dreams, justifying to themselves that the people they hurt just couldn’t understand

Yes, Bill is an unreliable narrator, and that includes all the very obvious posturing that he did it all on purpose and it was actually a very good thing, that everyone loved him, that he’s NOT incarcerated or anything and that he’s still a really all-powerful being, etc etc etc. To fully believe that EVERY vulnerability he reveals is an evil manipulation tactic, and not actual character writing, you have to interpret his very prevalent denial of weakness, which continues into the conclusion of the book where he already knows he’s lost the reader and is still denying any emotional needs or trauma, as itself a lie.

There’s a reason why the Pines family cracked open this book and laughed at Bill, calling him a fractured, pathetic mess.

The Book of Bill has a plot, a great plot, and great character writing. It’s a crazy companion to Journal 3, Ford’s story. Parallel stories, but where one ends with someone healing from their trauma, coming to terms with one’s mistakes and accepting the need for human love and relationships, the other ends with one stuck forever in their layers and layers of denial, never acknowledging their own trauma, never acknowledging their need for human companionship, grasping in desperate need at their continued facade of hating to love and loving to hurt.

Bill isn’t an always-in-control sly master of the mind, he’s a delusional and desperate man, fractured by his own trauma, who will continue to hurt others to prove that he’s in control. I’m tired of the false narrative that abusers can’t have trauma, aren’t people, giving them this otherworldly status above all humanity. Aside from not being narratively or societally productive, it undermines the ending and message of the book. Acknowledging Bill’s brokenness gives his victims POWER over him. The fact that Bill needs Ford, but Ford doesn’t need Bill is powerful. Them laughing at his desperation is powerful. Looking at someone who once seemed untouchable to you and realizing they’re just a suffering meat sack like any other human being is powerful.

The ending of The Book of Bill is the demystification of Bill. The book is a real look into his mind, telling a story that’s actually very tragic. It’s a very real story, a cautionary tale. You’re not being manipulated or tricked if you feel bad, it’s a very intentional writing decision that this ending elicits that dark pity, as he desperately fades away (arts and crafts materials confiscated) saying that he’s FINE.

So yeah, The Book of Bill and the website are a masterwork of the character, I love them, they’re incredible, and I don’t want to see such a tight character story discredited as “you can’t believe ANY of it!”

[sgstories123]

Daddy-O

“Daddy-O! Thanks for picking us up.” Charlene threw her bags of shopping into the front seat of the gleaming blue BMW before joining her friend Rachel at the back of the car.

Mr Tan just smiled at her 18 year-old daughter. He is a successful businessman but he has spent so little time on his family that his wife left him a couple of years ago. Since then, he swore to spend more time on his daughter and less time making money. So when his daughter wanted him to fetch her home from a shopping trip, he cancelled his meetings for the day and left to pick her up.

Mr Tan looked at the rear view mirror. He knew Rachel. She was one of Charlene’s shopping buddies and had been to their house several times. She looked a bit like Charlene and can easily be mistaken to be her sister or cousin. Both were about the same height of 1.7metres and spotting a slim and slender frame. They both enjoyed water sports and so both were tanned with perhaps Rachel being slightly darker with slightly larger breasts than Charlene. Their mannerisms were quite similar too. Both were now giggling at some jokes and flicking their long hair back as they threw their heads back in laughter.

“What did you buy, girls?” Mr Tan asked from the front of the car.

“New bikinis,” Charlene replied immediately. “We are having a weekend pool party so we bought new outfits. And, Daddy-O, there was this beautiful designer bag that I just got to have. It costs a bomb but I don’t think you will mind, right?”

“Of course not. Anything for my daughter,” smiled Mr Tan.

“Rachel wanted it too but she spent all her money on the bikinis. She…oh wait.” Charlene stopped talking and looked intently at the message on her handphone.

“Shucks! I forgot that we are supposed to meet our lecturer for the group project discussion today. I am going to be so screwed.” Charlene whined. “Daddy-O, can you drop me off at school?”

“Oh. Shall I accompany you to school then?” Rachel asked.

“No. That is not necessary. I will be done in about an hour or so. Why don’t you head back to my house and wait for me?” Charlene replied without looking up from texting an excuse to her study group.

A few minutes later, Mr Tan dropped Charlene off at her school. “See you later, Rachel!” Charlene shouted before closing the car door and waving a quick good-bye to her father.

Mr Tan drove back to his condominium with Rachel in his car. He had never spent time alone with Rachel before as Charlene was always around. He found her to be quite charming. They shared a couple of jokes and laughed together happily. Looking at her through the rear mirror, he realised that she was quite pretty and attractive.

Once they reached his home, he opened the door to his condominium unit and invited Rachel in. “You have been here several times. Make yourself at home.” He left the shopping bags on the sofa. “Looks like you girls have been busy cleaning up the shops,” he smiled. “There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Rachel went into the kitchen while Mr Tan sat down in on the sofa and switched on the television. He was feeling a little tired. “Do you want me to get you something, Uncle?” Rachel called from the kitchen.

“Oh, thanks! Can you get me a beer?” Mr Tan called out, surfing for a good Netflix movie.

He heard a Rachel coming out of the kitchen with two cans of beer in her hand. She set a can on the table and opened the other. The beer foamed out of the can, leaving a trail on the side of the can. Rachel instinctively licked the side of the can, stretching her pink tongue over the can. She pursed her lips and sipped off the excess beer. Mr Tan found that extremely erotic and his cock got hard, making an uncomfortable dent in his pants.

“Oops. Sorry about that. Here’s your beer, Uncle.” Rachel handed the can to Mr Tan. He took a sip, knowing that he just drank Rachel’s saliva mixed with the beer.

Rachel opened her own can of beer and again, the beer foamed out of the can. This time, it dripped onto her t-shirt, making a tiny dark patch on her breasts. Rachel licked the can again and this time, Mr Tan looked more intently at her tongue, imagining how it would feel if it was on his hard, warm cock instead of the cold, metallic can.

“Gosh. I am so careless. I need to wash this.” Rachel sighed. She took off her t-shirt, revealing a white bra covering a pair of perfect, round breasts. She walked into the kitchen to wash her t-shirt and returned to Mr Tan, still in her bra.

Mr Tan tried to appear nonchalant and not look at Rachel. “I didn’t know you drink beer. I thought young girls will go for Coke or something like that.”

“Nah. I drink beer once in a while. It is relaxing.” Rachel looked at Mr Tan. “Don’t worry. Charlene is not a beer person. She is a good girl.” Rachel laughed and reassured Mr Tan.

“No, you misunderstood me. I am not saying that drinking beer is bad. Just surprised. That’s all.” Mr Tan blushed in embarrassment.

“Are you blushing? Gosh, that’s so cute.” Rachel giggles. That made Mr Tan blushed even more. Was it the beer?

“Here, let me show you what we bought today.” Rachel reached over Mr Tan to grab a shopping bag. Mr Tan could feel Rachel’s breast resting on his chest. His cock was harder than ever and he hoped Rachel will not notice.

Rachel pulled out a red bikini. “Nice? Let me wear it for you.” She stood up and removed her bra, exposing her bare breasts. Mr Tan caught a quick glimpse of small, pinkish nipples before they disappeared behind the red bikini. Rachel pulled off her pants, revealing matching white panties. These were pulled off and for a short while, Mr Tan caught sight of a small triangle of pubic hair and a faintly visible slit before they were covered up by the red bikini again.

“Nice?” Rachel asked again? Mr Tan looked at the 18-year old girl, dressed in a red bikini that showed off her cleavage well. Rachel’s tanned, athletic and slender legs were made even sexier in the little red thong that Mr Tan knew barely covered her privates.

“Yes. Very sexy. I am sure all the boys would be attracted by you.” Myself included. Mr Tan thought to himself. Trying to shift his thoughts elsewhere, he asked “What is this bag that Charlene liked so much?”

“Oh. It is the latest model. Very pretty. Here, let me show you.” Rachel rummaged through the shopping bags before taking out a small, squarish blue bag out of a box.

Rachel caressed the bag lovingly, her eyes not leaving it for even a second. “I wished my dad was as generous as you, Uncle. I would have loved to have this bag too. Imagine if Charlene and I both went shopping with this bag.” Rachel sighed.

Rachel put away the bag in its protective case carefully before returning to her seat next to Mr Tan. She continued sipping her beer and watching the television, seemingly lost in thought.

She turned around and looked at Mr Tan. “Uncle, if I am your daughter, will you treat me like Charlene and buy me whatever I want?”

“Of course! Why not?” Mr Tan replied. “You are so pretty. Any daddy will want to spoil you with gifts.”

“Then, can you be my daddy and buy me gifts?”

“What do you mean? Adopt you?” Mr Tan was confused.

“Ha ha!” Rachel laughed. “That’s funny. I mean be my sugar daddy. Let me show you what I can do.”

Without waiting for his response, Rachel leaned forwards and unbuckled Mr Tan’s belt. Her fingers brushed on his hard cock. She turned up to look at Mr Tan with surprise. “Gosh! Are you already hard?”

She unzipped his pants, revealing Mr Tan’s hard cock straining against his underwear. She pulled down the underwear, releasing his cock. Finally, Mr Tan’s cock was free from the confines of his underwear.

“You have a nice, thick cock, Daddy.” Rachel was going with the flow now. “Can I please suck it, Daddy?”

Mr Tan did not know how to react. Here was a sexy young girl in a red bikini offering him a blowjob but this young girl was also his daughter’s friend.

“Pretty, please, Daddy? I promise to be good.” Rachel whined in the most innocent and seductive voice. Mr Tan heard himself say “Yes, be a good girl and suck on my cock.” Did he say that? He seemed to be in a daze.

Rachel need no further encouragement. She spit on the head of the cock and using her tongue, she smeared the saliva all over the cock, lubricating it. Slowly, she engulfed the head of the cock, pressing her lips tightly on the tip and drawing a sigh of pleasure from Mr Tan. Her left hand stroked the shaft slowly, drawing seductively lines along the length of the cock. Her right hand cupped his balls, squeezing them gently. Occasionally, she will gently scratch the base of his cock, just behind the balls with her fingers, making Mr Tan gasped in pleasure.

Slowly, she drew in more of his cock, all the while sucking and maintaining pressure on his cock. Finally, she had swallowed his whole cock in her mouth, with the tip of his cock touching the back of her mouth. She continued sucking with her left hand now alternating between squeezing the base of his cock and jerking it.

Mr Tan was moaning in pleasure from the blowjob. Rachel was very good at this. He held on to her head, guiding her to enhance his pleasure. Once Rachel had his whole cock in her mouth, he knew he could not hold back any further. He felt his balls tighten and shot his load into her mouth. Instead of pulling away, Rachel continued to suck and squeeze every drop of his cum. When she was done, she pulled away and smiled seductively at Mr Tan. She opened her mouth to show him his cum in her mouth, before swallowing everything in one gulp.

Rachel got up and sat on Mr Tan’s lap. She leaned over and whispered seductively into Mr Tan’s ear. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Mr Tan’s cock stiffened again, pushing against Rachel’s ass. Rachel turned and smiled when she saw the hard cock.

“Rachel is a bad girl. Rachel did not do a good job. Please punish Rachel, Daddy. Stick your hard cock into Rachel. Make Rachel cry out in pain, Daddy.” Rachel cried.

She grabbed Mr Tan’s cock with one hand, stroking it to its full hardness. With the other hand, she pulled apart her red thongs, exposing her love hole. With one practiced movement, she guided Mr Tan’s cock into her cunt.

Mr Tan groaned in pleasure as his cock pushed swiftly into the tight, young vagina. As Rachel started to ride on Mr Tan’s cock, she removed her bikini top, offering her bare breasts to Mr Tan. He did not resist the offer, squeezing both breasts with his hands, licking and sucking each pink nipple in turn.

Rachel was also moaning in pleasure. Mr Tan had a thick cock so it was stretching and filling her cunt, sending orgasmic pleasure through her. She grind herself on his cock, moving forwards and upwards, increasing her pace as her pleasure intensified.

“Do you want to be my sugar daddy? Can you buy me whatever I want?” Rachel grunted softly into Mr Tan’s ear as she rode him. “Yes, be my daughter. I will buy you whatever you want.” Mr Tan panted, his shirt now drenched in his sweat.

Rachel hugged Mr Tan tightly. “Thank you, Daddy. I love you.” She wrapped her legs around Mr Tan, positioning herself at an angle so that Mr Tan’s cock could enter her even more deeply. She increased her pace, squeezing Mr Tan’s cock with her cunt as tightly as she could. Mr Tan could not hold back any more. With a grunt, he shot his second load into Rachel, hugging her as tightly as he could as his little soldiers charged into the tight chamber.

They held each other for a while until Mr Tan’s cock became soft and plopped out of Rachel’s cunt. Rachel gave Mr Tan a kiss on the lips. “Thank you, Daddy.” She got up and sperm trickled down her legs. “I need to take a bath.”

“Follow me.” Mr Tan led Rachel into the common toilet. “Let’s take a bath together,” he suggested.

As Mr Tan showered Rachel, his hands roamed all over her body, caressing her smooth young skin and enjoying the touch of the contours of her tight, muscular body. His cock became hard again.

“Daddy, are you hard again?” Rachel asked innocently.

Mr Tan’s lust overcame him. He needed to fuck this girl again. “Come with me.” He pulled Rachel out of the toilet and into Charlene’s room. He took a towel and dried both of them hurriedly. Seeing one of Charlene’s large t-shirt on a chair, he took it and put it on Rachel. “Don’t catch a cold. Now lie face down on Charlene’s bed with your ass facing me.”

Rachel thought that perhaps Mr Tan was into SM. Was he going to spank her bottom?

“Is Rachel a bad girl? Don’t spank me, Daddy.” Rachel role-played as well as she could.

“You are now Charlene, not Rachel.” Mr Tan replied.

Rachel got it immediately. Mr Tan is living out an incest fantasy. She mimicked Charlene’s mannerism. “Daddy-O. I am such a naughty girl.”

Mr Tan’s cock hardened immediately when he heard the term “Daddy-O” used by Charlene. He hugged Rachel from behind, sniffing at Charlene’s scent from her t-shirt.

“Daddy-O. Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!” Rachel cried.

Mr Tan grabbed his cock with one hand and with the other parted Rachel’s cunt. Overcome with lust, he did not bother with foreplay but forced his cock into the tight hole in one swift stroke. He pumped Rachel furiously from behind, leaning forward to squeeze her breasts and taking in deep breaths of Charlene’s scent, all the while imagining that he was fucking his own daughter.

Rachel was swept up by Mr Tan’s animal lust and lost herself in her pleasure. She remembered her role though and occasionally moaned “Fuck me, Daddy-O!” for Mr Tan’s pleasure.

Mr Tan increased his pace and hugged Rachel even more tightly. Minutes later, he came a third time into Rachel. He turned Rachel’s head upwards for a kiss. “Don’t tell anyone and I will buy you whatever you want. When we are alone, your name is Charlene.” 

[lotti-lyric]

Hiii!! Can I have a Bnha match up, it would be nice if it was romantic! Don't feel pressured tho!! I'll wait AND I'M SO SORRY, I LIKE TO INFODUMP ABOUT MYSELF

I'm a isfp 6w5 641 so/sp cancer (cancer moon aquarius rising)

In appareances I have my hair short and dyed red just like the 2017 markiplier (literally my most recent hyperfixation) blue glasses, brown eyes, tan-yellowish skin since I'm latino but As a kid I never went outside and I now live in a cold area, triangle body type, sadly 5'3 (IT'S AVERAGE I SWEAR)

Im the kind of guy that never talks unless is to say something nice! Or sassy if it's with my friends

With strangers I act really distant and I rather finish whatever it's going on fast and go (in school mostly) but with people I care about like friends and family I'm really loud and easygoing, very impulsive and warm

also, I'm a really sensitive person, don't be mean to me back I will cry

I enjoy writing, drawing, signing, doing sports and playing videogames!

And I LOVE LOVE ANIMATIONS AND MUSIC!!! AND STUFF ANIMALS, I HAVE A DOG PLUSH, A HOLLOW KNIGHT PLUSH ETC!!

Aesthetics and stuff

Retro and colour full stuff to peaky blinders type of stuff

Since im like two complete personalities in one, my closet is full of colourful sweathers and the most dreadful and fancy looking suit...

And that's it!! Take ur time, drink water and have a nice day or night! ♡

(Sorry if it's hard to understand, it's 1am and I speak Spanish as a first language)

charlotte’s interlude 💗- hi!! sorry this is so late, you’re totally fine!! i hope you enjoy this and have a great day, you seem so fun!!

warnings; some swearing

i match you with…

Keigo Takami!! (aka Hawks)

IM SORRY FOR THE PUN BUT THIS ^

he loves your hair so much oh my GOD

he’d def want to help you when you touch up the red color!! he tried his best but you prob have to do more of the work 💀💀😭

he loves how sweet you are but also loves your attitude!!

he definitely doesn’t give up when you’re distant at first and when you open up, he’s literally over the moon with happiness!

lord have mercy on anyone who makes you cry holy shit 🧍🏼‍♀️

he loves your writing and art so much!! if you make animations, expect him to have them favorited on this phone!!

listening to music together and dancing around the room like the whole world disappeared together 💗

he gets you a new stuffed animal on a random day each week!! more than one if he spots one you’ll love!!

^^ they all have names ofc and they are your children 😩💀

he loves your aesthetics!! he’ll try to match you if you let him know before hand what you plan to wear

UGH YALL SO CUTE

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 7): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the General makes you train, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, and plans are revealed. 

wc: 2K

tw: none

a/n: Thank you for being patient, sunshines! 7.5 will be out tonight as a huge thank you to all of my followers and anons who are reading. You all are just amazing. 

masterlist

“Take a break!” The heavy rake is tossed to the ground,and you struggle for air, panting and coughing. Torturing you with the rake-swinging seemed to be Geto’s objective today, and it’s taking the life out of your body. 

As you rest on your back - facing the sky - there’s a massive gust of air above you, and you tilt your head back to see a tiny, raven haired boy standing above you. He’s fanning you eagerly, face scrunched up in frown as he exerts all of his energy on the fan. Your first reaction is to stare at the child in fascination; the next is to laugh. 

“Junpei…” you chuckle, and the child stops, letting the fan drift to his side. “You’re too sweet.” He nods once, huffing out a short breath, then starts fanning you again, making your hair blow back behind your ears. 

“Giving Lady y/n a nice breeze, Junpei?” Geto asks, walking towards you two with the rake in his hand. 

“Yes, Master Geto,” Junpei affirms, scrunching his face up even more as he increases  the force of his fanning. Geto leans on the rake and watches the scene with a small smile on his face, and you allow Junpei to continue his task for a moment longer before standing. You grin at the child, placing a hand on his head as you murmur:

“Thank you, sweet one.” His hair bobs as he bows to you, then to Geto, and dashes off into the camp once more. You watch the child run off, his hair flying in the stale air of the mid-day. 

“You have quite a few admirers, I see,” Geto begins, and you shake your head. “First, little Itadori, now Junpei… who’s next, I wonder?”

“I would like to wager a certain General would be next in line to try and win my hand,” you reply; Geto straightens up immediately and walks closer to you, a lazy grin painted on his face. 

“Well, it seems that General might have quite a difficult time getting past your growing line of suitors.” You both chuckle, and Geto tilts up your chin with a forefinger. You’re prepared to kiss him - well, that is until he stops and says:

“Only six more sets of ten swings to go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

 You can barely bring your spoon to your lips during lunch. 

“My Lady, do you require assistance?” 

You shake your head no, but your arms are screaming please help us. 

It was one thing to have to swing until the sun went down. It’s an entirely different thing to not only swing seventy times but also run laps around the field like a soldier in training. You felt exhausted by the third lap, but Geto encouraged you to run more; his hands on his knees as he watched you turn into a floundering fish on land. 

The other women surely watched you train with a curious eye. No one dares to ask why you allow Geto to reduce you to mush in full view of the camp, even though they know why you let him do it. 

Because he turns you to mush when they’re not watching, as well. 

“Master Geto?” Kaori shouts, standing from her seated position on the tarp laid out in the grass. 

“No, don’t!” you cry out, but she’s already trudging down the field, leaving you behind as she calls Geto’s name over and over again. You curse softly, sitting down your soup with agonizing slowness and try to stand from where you’re sitting, but your legs will not move an inch. 

“She can barely move; how do you expect her to eat lunch and remain healthy if you render her arms useless? Then you walk off, leaving her to her own devices! You don’t pay me enough to feed her like you do during dinner.” Kaori is stomping back up to you, followed closely by Geto, who is shrugging on his haori and appears to be rather alarmed. “You should take better care of your captives, Master Geto. Look at her!” 

You try your best to look as painless as possible, but the facade is broken when Geto extends a hand out and you grimace as you try to reach your own hand out. His face falls instantly and without speaking, he hoists you up into his arms. “Kaori, bring her soup, please. I’ll feed her myself.” Your head rests against his broad chest limply, and the way that his heart beats wildly against your ears oddly soothes you. You’re in pain, yes, but you’re not completely immune to the way he makes your heart stutter and trip over itself when he’s near you. And you’ve never been as near to him as you are now. 

“When you are in pain, you need to say something,” Geto chastises as he lays you in the bed, folding a fur up before resting you against it and sitting beside you. “Kaori made it sound like you were dying.” 

“I wasn’t dying,” you retort. “I tried to prevent her from saying anything.” 

“So, you thought I wouldn’t find out later?” When the head maid deposits the soup bowl into Geto’s hands, he looks up at you and raises a brow. 

“No, I--” 

“Open.” A spoonful of clear onion soup is presented to you, and you obey, knowing your argument is completely lost already. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re here,” he continues, offering another spoonful. “You should let me know when you’re struggling, or when you need something.” 

Your mouth is full of soup, so you can’t reply like you want to. But what would you even say? Would you tell him that you’ve been struggling between your plan - which had been altered slightly over the past few days - or would you tell him you needed him in more ways than one?  

“Master Geto,” a voice calls out at the opening of the tent. You don’t recognize the voice at all, but when the person walks through the flaps, you recognize his face. His wide, dark blue eyes are all-too familiar, and the young man’s mouth presses together in a thin line at the sight of you being spoon-fed by Geto. This is the same man who captured you when you tried to run away the first time. 

“Yuta, I’m glad you’re here. What do you have for me?” Yuta… The name rings a bell along with the memory of Nanami mentioning him when talking about the new emissary. Yuta produces a thin roll of brown paper and hands it to Geto. 

“They’re not going to send another emissary.” The implications of this knowledge brings the weight of the world down on your shoulders, and you look to Geto’s face, which is blank. 

“Wait, but that means--” you’re quickly interrupted by Yuta’s sharp eyes cutting to you, and Geto chuckles. 

“That means I’d better get you all settled in the next village as soon as possible.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“What if the elders don’t agree to his plan?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori runs water down your arms before answering softly. 

“Then he will wipe the village out, my Lady.” 

“But how? And single handedly?” 

“I won’t claim to know how he does it. I have never been privy to his methods, nor would I want to be.” 

You think about Kaori’s words long after the bath was over, alone in the bedroom and wrapped in furs. The thought of Geto slaughtering an entire village is chilling, but his truly ruthless side was not something you had been exposed to. You shake thoughts of death out of your mind and stand from the bed, dragging the fur pelt behind you as you stride over to Geto’s desk to eye his newest plans. 

The page full of black and red ink marks is unfamiliar to you, and you can’t make heads or tails of the drawings despite looking at it from different angles. The mystery of the paper engrosses you fully - so much so that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind. 

“They’re formations.” Yuta speaks behind you, and you jolt, knocking your hip against the table. 

“I b-beg your pardon?” you stutter, clutching the pelt around you tightly. 

“Formations... for battle.”  Yuta reaches over to point at a circle and then to the arrows moving away from it. “This is the center of the formation - where Master Gojo will be - and this,” he points to the triangle at the head of the formation. “Is where Master Geto will be.” 

“Why is Gojo well-protected and not Geto?” The inquiry is met with laughter as Yuta slides the paper away from you. 

“He’s not being protected. He’s protecting everyone else.” 

“And when is this occurring?” Yuta raises a brow, looking over at you with a tender gaze. 

“Haibara and Gojo are negotiating with the closest village as we speak, but we could encounter the Imperial Warriors at any time. This could happen tomorrow, if I’m being honest.” 

“Tomorrow?” Your shock doesn’t affect the young man at all, and he steps away from you, eyeing you carefully. 

“I won’t say anything further. Geto is protecting you from this information for some reason, and has obviously commanded Kaori to say nothing as well.” With this, he exits, and you’re left looking at the squares, circles, and triangles while wondering where you fit into all of this mess. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your encounter with Yuta gave you more questions than answers, and when the bed dips behind you, you roll over to meet Geto face to face, intent on getting answers.

“I thought you were asleep.” You don’t respond to the statement, instead sitting up fully and pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“You should have told me that you could go to war at any time.” Geto frowns, sliding in next to you and tilting his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting on word from Haiba--” 

“And that. What happened to my village after you took me?” 

“Little one, I haven’t touched your village. You would know if I made any decisions about the fate of your peers.” 

“Kaori doesn’t know what happened to her family, and she’s just a maid! Why would you feel obligated to tell me - a captive - about my family?” 

“You’re more than just a captive to me, y/n. You know that,” he whispers, blinking slowly. 

“Right, I’m a pawn,” you grunt. “I asked you to tell me your game, and now I’m asking you again. What do you plan on doing with me while you’re away at war? I know you’re not stupid enough to leave me here while you’re away and can’t keep an eye on--” 

Geto puts up a hand, trying to stop you from speaking. “You’re right, I hav--” 

“Did you know I tried to run away?” The General looks at you, face blank. “But I came back and…” You fumble for the words, but they don’t feel right in your mouth. So, you rephrase. “I came back because…” You pause. You remember the reason you justified coming back, but it doesn’t make sense now. You can’t even say you followed your own plan. It had fallen by the wayside the moment Geto’s lips met yours; that you knew for a fact. 

“Nanami watched you; I knew you left the tent the moment you began walking across the camp,” he admits, and your lips part in surprise. “But you turned around. I came to confront you after dinner, and that’s why I was at the tent when you started to yell. My anger overshadowed my disappointment, but then even that was overshadowed by my desire to have you.” 

“Then why--” 

“I’m not leaving you here; you’re absolutely right about that. I wanted to wait to tell you when the time was right, but… I suppose now is the time. Your carriage will leave as soon as Gojo and Haibara send word back to me about the village. I’m sending you home.”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​