#though I never ate glue

[hydrogen-tom]

shamefully admitting I saw this on twitter and wanna do it but dare not to post on that platform again. here’s some lore about yours truly y2qtom:

> ate batteries and coins as a kid (not really “ate”, more so sucked on them like pacifiers).

> almost always have at least three visible burns, cuts or bruises on my left hand; never on my right (I am right-handed).

> I have a tiger build-a-bear that my uncle gave me when I was less than a year old. He is unnamed.

> might have tinnitus

> built a semi-functional coffee machine at 14 using two broken whiteboards, a fidget spinner, a rubik’s cube and a (stolen) arduino set.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you do more both wet cat Void please! That shit is hilarious

wet cat void is the best thing to ever happen, all powerful diety being a wet cat in silly ways should be the norm.

For a being as powerful, independant and comanding as himself, void happened to be quite...clingy to you. He would appear out of nowhere -within a blink of an eye if you will- mostly when you least expect him to or when you were busy with other things, and just stand close enough that when you moved you were risking the possibility of colliding into him constantly.

Like an black cat who didn't want to stay close by your feet when you were in the kitchenette, being so close that you would effectively trip over your own feet with how close he was, leading you to end up to fall into Void's awaiting arms. Void is amused by this and would do it constantly, finding your little gasp of surpise when you noticed his presence, your face changing from surpise to annoyance and how your hand never left his bicep as though you were still finding a way to support yourself from the fright.

'void.' you said looking at his pinprick eyes that seem to twinkle, showing his humour in all this.

'yes my little dove?' he asks, tilting his head to the side.

'do that again and you're getting the silent treatment.' you warned him and from an outside perspective you telling an shadowy entity who could make shadows out of people that your going to going to 'give him the silent treatment' was enough for people to look at you as though you had grown a second head. However you knew Void loved the attention you gave him, the kisses you give him and the affection you gave him you might as well have been spoiling him rotten with it, it had gotten to the point where void felt entitled to your love whenever he wanted.

If a Void could pout then you knew he was as he burrows his face agaisnt the side of yours, holding your waist tightly, keeping you close to him as your palms were pressed to his chest. 'Must you torture me, make me suffer without your affection for a single second more, how cruel.' He says lowly as though trying to provoke sympathy from you but you weren't buying it, you did so in the past and were left with having to scratch Void's head for hours on end or hold him in your arms until he felt satisfied; and when he was satisfied with the affection, he would wander off wothout a word.

Truely a black cat who was independant but wanted to be swaddled in affection but on their own terms, take that away and soon enough that black cat will become vocal and clingly, much like how Void was being right now.

'Then suffer.' You replied, not giving in nor planning to as you've done so many times in the past and didn't feel like falling into old traps, not when you were all too aware of the fact that you would be stuck cuddiling him for hours on end. 'i have stuff to do and i don't feel like having you try and distract me.' You added with a huff as you finally managed to pull yourself away from Void, but he was still very much stuck to you like glue and refusing to remove his hands from your waist, his grip was like iron as you had him trailing after you like a second shadow but just darker and more menacing and a pair of pinprick eyes.

'little dove.'

no response.

'my love?'

you barely looked up from the massive wall of glass that overlooked the streets of New York, taking slow sips of your drink of choice, taking note of how you should visit that corner store to stock up treats for the next movie night with the rest of the team seeing as John and Alexei ate more then their fair sahre last time. Your poor malteasers.

'My light, my walking daydream do not play such silly games.' Void sounded as though he was pleading as he managed to wrangle you close to his chest once more as the entity pratically swamped you in his entirety. He was cool, almost frigid but you found comfort in his chilled embrace, only to remind yourself that you were still ignoring him and steel your resolve as to not fall for his buttery words and affection; so you merely shrugged in his embrace.

Void huffed and pushed his head futher into your neck. 'this is childish even from you my dear.' he says, voice muffled agaisnt your neck but you didn't respond, merely taking another sip of your drink to hide your amusement of Void’s suddenly clingy and neediness.

Truly a black cat Void was through and through.

[bookishdreamer28]

This man and his damn sexy voice was all I could think about, so hope you'll enjoy this one <33

"Where were you all this time?!"Sylus appeared in front of you in an instant once you walked in home, looking extremely worried. And to be honest, you couldn't blame him. His life was full of dangerous things and before he met you, it was easy to deal with them. No fear to eat him alive every day, no endless text messages just to make sure that you were ok, no sleepless nights just to make sure that you will always lay right in his arms.

But even though he knew how dangerous things were, a selfish side of him made him see just how calm and perfect everything seemed when you were around.

"Hello to you too"

"Y/N I swear-"

"Stop stressing over nothing. Everything's fine. I'm here now as you can see." You laughed lightly and gently touched the side of his face, caressing it. Sylus exhaled a long breath at the warmth he suddenly felt on his cheek, and his heart. You were unharmed. You are ok. No need to worry.

He turned his head away from your touch and you felt a bit taken aback.

"Love I-"

"You know, at least a message would have made me a little less paranoid" There he was. The grumpy but caring man you so adoringly love.

"Next time I'll consider doing this first"

"Next time?!! Oh no there won't be next time. If it necessary I'll glue myself on your side just to make sure that no one will harm you." He followed closely behind you as you walked in your room. You sat on the bed and started taking off your shoes but Sylus kneeled right in front of you to do it himself.

"Let me take care of you sweetie" Ah this nickname. Never getting old when you hear it coming from him. His voice has been making you feel things since day 1.

You stared at his face as you noticed that he still had his eyebrows furrowed. Like he was still pissed about something.

"Sylus, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that- you're driving me crazy" He was face to face with you now, an angry look on his face. His thump brushed your lower lip gently and you felt the heat rising.

"You're driving me so crazy, that there are times were I hate it" he leaned in to tease your lips with a small peck "and other's I want to do nothing more but kiss you for hours" and that's what he did next. He collided his lips with yours, all the tension running through your bodies wild.

"These lips of yours" he said in between the kisses "will always have me on my knees for a taste".

His hands went slowly down to your waist, as he picked you up in his arms so he can sit down on the bed and let you rest on his lap. The kisses did not stop for hours but once you eventually stopped, Sylus made sure to take care of you just like he promised. You ate your dinner, prepared the bed and once you laid your head on his chest and his arms engulfed you in a sweet hug, he felt happy. Happy cause you are here. With him.

"What's in your mind sweet girl?" His voice soft. His hand rubbed soft circles on your arm and you looked up at him.

"Nothing I just...I love you. So much" you nuzzled your head in the crook of his neck. If only you could see his face right now. These three words leaving your mouth always made him weak. So damn weak, that the thought of having someone like you loving him, felt like a dream to him. A dream that he afraid that it was going to stop amd then wake up back to the harsh reality. But he wouldn't let anyone or anything take you from him. The reason of his happiness.

He stared down at you, with so much love in his eyes as he replied:

"I love you" His softly grabbed your chin, bringing you closer to his face so he can seal his lips with yours into another feverishly kiss.

[girliism]

having art and patrick as your boy best friends.

you met them in kindergarten. the three of you sat at the same table with another boy. said other boy was writing bad words on your drawing when art and patrick sprayed glue all over him.

they had to sit out of recess watching the other kids play. you brought them both flowers as a thank you and ever since then the three of you were inseparable.

so inseparable that when third grade came around and patrick saw that the three of you weren’t in the same class he brought his parents up to the school and demanded that you all be in the same class every year. middle and high school were no different.

you loved them but hated the gross tendencies they came with. “you have to sit in between us so we don’t fight over who sits next to you.” art says. but you hate sitting in between them cause it ended up with you getting caught in their burping matches. “you guys are so gross.”

but art and patrick really did care for you. so much so that at 11 when you got your first period and ignored them for a week they made it their duty to learn all about menstruation.

you were at lunch eating with your girl friends when art places a drink in front of you. “it’s a green smoothie full of iron rich vegetables so you can replenish after losesing so much blood. my mom made it.” the blonde smiles at you very proud of himself but your faces heats up in embarrassment. “also you can get pregnant now so like don’t do that.” patrick adds quite loudly and everyone is looking at you and your other friends are snickering at the interaction. you wanted to die.

watching art and patrick go though growth spurts was actually terrifying. and not to mention they ate everything. “can we get five home style burger plates two for us and one for her. with oreo milkshakes. oh and apple pie” patrick orders. you watch as the both of them clear their plates with ease now deciding if you all should go for ice cream.

it was the summer before freshman year and you had spent most of it with your grandparents but you made in back in time for the zweig end of summer party. “guys! did you miss me” you pull them in for a hug before you walk ahead of them into the zweig house. the two of the watch you with confusion. when did you become a girl?

art and patrick never really saw you as “girlish” the way they saw other girls as girlish cause they’ve known you for so long. but something changed when you were at your grandparents house. you changed.

“dude you see that right.” patrick says. him and art watch you in the pool talking to your other friends. “she has boobs.” art groans at his friends perverted observation. “can you like not stare at her chest. that’s weird.” “what, all i’m saying is that she has boobs now guys like boobs. boobs and guys are no good match. horny assholes will try to get with her all year.” “can you stop saying boobs” art whispers “they’ll break her heart and get her pregnant. we have to protect her.” patrick says sternly.

the first two years of high school boys avoided you like the plague.

“do you guys think i’m ugly?” you blurt out one night the three of you laying on your bed watching juno. both of them sputter out a slue of what’s and why would you think that. “it’s just no one’s asked me to the formal. i’m literally the only person i know who doesn’t have a date.”

patrick looks at you before shrugging. “you can come with us duh. me and art will be your date we can make it a group thing.” art nods in agreement. this makes you feel worse. “i don’t want to be your guys pity date. plus your girlfriends hate me.” art sits up turning to you. “it’s not a pity date. formals are supposed to be about having fun with you friends. and our girlfriends don’t hate you.” oh but they totally did.

you end up going to formal with art, patrick and their girlfriends and have a surprisingly good time. the night is ending and patrick’s ditch the two of you so you and art sit on the empty football field just the two of you.

“so where’s your girlfriend?” you ask. “making out with the quarterback under the bleachers.” art sighs out looking up at the sky. you wince. “sorry” art mumbles out a whatever picking at the trimmed grass.

“her loss right.” you bump your shoulder with his. art scoffs “yeah, now at least she’ll have someone to grope her.” “wait wait is big shot tennis man too scared to grope his girlfriend.” art shoves you. “shut up ok, guys get nervous too.” humming you say. “if a guy so much as wanted to kiss me i’d just do it.” eyes looking up.

arts head snaps towards you. “have you never been kissed before?” you shake your head no. “but we’re almost juniors, how have you never been kissed?” “maybe because you and pat intimidate any guy that’s has interest in me. which is really fucking annoying by the way.” you huff. “sorry about that, pat just doesn’t want you to end up on teen mom.”

the two of you sit in silence for a while. “i could kiss you.” art says. you look over to him heart beat picking up. art is a good looking guy obviously, but he was your best friend. “wouldn’t that be weird?” you bite your lip out of nervousness. “doesn’t have to be.”

you get your first kiss that night. on the football field under the night sky. it was nice, art’s lips felt nice. moving slowly against yours his hand tenderly holding your cheek. you both break away from the kiss to breathe. “thanks” you whisper.

you guys never talk about what happened that night. not to patrick and not to each other. the same way you don’t talk about the kiss you and patrick share in his treehouse at his family’s goodbye summer party before junior year.

part two

[miwsolovely]

—Low & Careful

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x gn!reader | hurt / comfort | gaz appreciation week masterlist.

day two : hurt / comfort

tw : dependency ( kyle on reader )

It stuck to him like glue.

The feeling of dread, of loss. Sunk its poisoned talons into his flesh, touching bone, tainting anything and everything. It travelled from his flesh, his bones, to deep in his belly; taking root in his stomach and growing there. Drinking what he did, stealing what he ate.

He felt as it grew up from his stomach, used its vines to claw its way up and out his throat, his mouth. Felt it become him; turning into a skin as deep as his, mimicking the molten caramel of his eyes, the dripping honey from his smile, the tiny moons imbedded into his cheeks—it replaced him.

No wonder he’s always lived like he’s bracing for something to fall apart.

He doesn’t mean to — it’s just instinct by now. Keep things at a distance. Don’t get too soft. Don’t name anything you don’t want to lose.

( “Don’t name anything you want to lose”—Yet he catches himself giving you names that drip like molasses from his lips.

Smiling at you in the morning, a hand at your waist as he leans your body on his. “What do you want to eat today, angel?”

Thumbing away your tears, smoothing the furrow between your brows and replacing it with a kiss. “It’s okay love, I got you.” )

He’s good at pretending.

Knows just how to smile when someone cracks a joke, how to nod like he’s listening, like he’s not somewhere else entirely—buried under the weight of everything he’s lost, and everything he never let himself keep.

You come along quieter than most. You don’t ask too many questions. And that’s probably why he doesn’t shove you away.

But even then, he keeps you at arm’s length. A careful, practiced distance.

Because it’s not you—it’s what you could become. Another person he could miss. Another name he’d carve into his bones if things went wrong.

He doesn’t let you see it though—the nights when sleep won’t come. When the silence curls tight around his ribs like barbed wire. When he lies awake replaying the past in fragments he can’t put back together.

He remembers touches he never gets to feel again. Laughter that doesn’t echo anymore. He remembers what it’s like to hold something close and still lose it.

So he keeps his voice calm. Keeps his hands steady. Keeps his heart barricaded behind worn smiles and casual shrugs.

And you—

You’re. . . patient. That’s what terrifies him the most. You look at him like you see the cracks and don’t mind the sharp edges. Like you’re not going to run when things get messy, piercing your skin and when he tries to help, his fingers get painted with blood. Your blood.

But you don’t know what you’re in for.

Because if he lets you in, if he lets himself want this, want you—

he knows it’ll ruin him if you ever go.

And part of him already thinks you will.

They always do.

When he first felt this way, this hopelessness that stuck to him, it scared him how you didn’t press him to open up to you.

You never asked him what kept him up at night, or why his eyes lingered a little too long on doorways, shadows, goodbyes. You don’t try to fix him—and maybe that’s why he sometimes finds himself watching you longer than he means to. Like he’s trying to memorize you in case you disappear too.

Because you might. Because everyone else does.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Keeping it light. Keeping it safe. Jokes over bruised knuckles and tired grins over half-eaten takeout. Letting you in just far enough that you think you’re close, but never far enough to see where it hurts; where each crack lies.

And it does hurt.

More than he’ll ever say out loud.

The silence after missions. The way his chest aches when his phone lights up and it’s not you. The way he finds traces of you in places you’ve never even touched—your shampoo on his towel, your laugh echoing in his kitchen, your ghost curled up on the couch long after you’ve left.

He’s scared.

Not of dying. He’s made peace with that. It’s easy, in comparison.

He’s scared of his dependence on you. Of letting himself believe this could be something, and then waking up one day to find you gone, just like the rest. Another person who realized he wasn’t worth staying for. Another empty room. Another silence he has to learn to live with.

So when you ask, one night, soft and unsure, “Do you ever get tired of being alone?”—

he doesn’t answer right away.

Just looks at you, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll find the words he’s buried too deep.

His voice is quiet when it finally comes.

“Only when you’re not here.”

You only looked at him for a moment, then a slow, unsure smile crept on your face.

Part of him thinks he doesn’t want to notice something’s wrong. Like keeping it tucked away in the back of his mind, locked away and collecting dust. But he knows it’s there. Knows that he needs to notice it. But nobody notices anything at first.

Not the way his day starts to feel off when you don’t text back. Not the way the silence in his flat stretches longer without your voice in it. Not the way he stops buying coffee for one.

It creeps in—soft, quiet, like you. Like the way you leave your cardigan on the back of his chair. Like the way your laughter settles into the walls like warmth. Like the way your presence feels less like a visit and more like a rhythm he’s gotten used to.

You never ask him to need you. You never make it obvious. You just. . . show up. When he’s had a rough day, when he doesn’t say anything but somehow you still know. You hand him tea and don’t ask about the blood caked in his fingernails. You sit beside him and let him exist without having to explain.

And he doesn’t say it—that he looks for you before he looks for anyone else. That your name on his phone makes something in his chest unclench. That some days, the only reason he makes it out of bed is the thought of maybe seeing you later.

He tells himself it’s not need. That he’s just used to you now. That it’s convenience. Familiarity.

But he starts keeping your favorite snacks in his kitchen. Starts sleeping a little better when you’re around. Starts catching himself listening for your footsteps down the hall like they mean something. Like you mean something.

And when you’re gone—even just for a day or two—he feels it.

Not in the dramatic way. Not in the falling-apart, can’t-function kind of way.

But in the quiet spaces.

In the way he leaves the TV on for background noise. In the untouched mug on the counter he still sets out for you by habit. In the way he checks the door three times, like he’s hoping you’ll walk through it.

Like he’s already forgotten what life was like without you in it.

And as always, he tells himself he’s fine.

That he hasn’t noticed how your toothbrush lives beside his now. That the worn-in softness of your jackets on the back of the couch doesn’t make his chest feel too tight. That the playlists on his phone—the ones he swore he didn’t care about—are full of songs you’ve hummed under your breath.

He still sleeps on his side of the bed, even when you’re not there. Leaves yours untouched. As if you might walk in, any second now, and crawl into it like you always do—feet cold, eyes tired, muttering something about how shit the weather is.

And maybe that’s what scares him.

Not that you’ve changed his space,

But that he’s started needing you in it.

There’s a rhythm to his life now, and it’s shaped around you in ways he didn’t authorize. You’ve folded yourself into the cracks he thought he’d sealed off— the quiet, jagged places no one else bothered to stay long enough to find.

He finds himself remembering your voice in moments you weren’t even there for.

When it’s late and his hands won’t stop shaking. When the mission chatter fades and there’s only blood on his boots and something cold in his throat—he hears your laugh. Not loud. Not bright. Just there, like a tether. Like a promise he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

You’re in all the soft places now.

The back of his mind. The curve of his routines. The split second before he answers the phone—hoping it’s you.

And still, he doesn’t say anything.

He won’t.

Because to say it would mean admitting something’s shifted. That the distance he’s always kept, the armor he’s worn for so long—it’s not holding like it used to. Not with you.

He tells himself it’s manageable. That he can handle this—the way he checks the door when he hears footsteps, the way he sleeps lighter when you’re not there, just in case you come back and he doesn’t want to miss it.

That he’s not getting used to you in the same way he breathes—constantly, unconsciously, like something vital.

But he is.

And that terrifies him more than anything he’s faced out there in the field.

It starts small.

You don’t text that morning.

No “morning, sunshine” with a sleepy photo of your pillow-smushed face. No joke about how your coffee tastes like regret. Nothing. Just silence.

He notices, of course. Pretends he doesn’t.

Wipes a hand down his face and tells himself you’re probably just busy. That you overslept. That it’s nothing. He even types out a message—You alive?—but doesn’t send it. Just stares at the screen for a while and puts the phone face-down on the table.

By midday, the silence is louder.

He checks his phone again. Then again. Then again, even though he told himself he wouldn’t. It feels stupid. Pathetic. He’s a grown man. He’s seen hell and walked out of it. But this? This radio silence from you? It puts a knot in his chest he can’t seem to loosen.

You’re not pulling away on purpose. Not really.

But you don’t show up that night either. No knock at the door. No comfortable silence on his couch while you scroll through your phone with your legs in his lap like they belong there.

And maybe they did. Maybe they still do. But without you here, the space feels off. Airless.

He eats half his dinner and tosses the rest. Sleeps like shit. Wakes up twice thinking he heard you, only to remember you never came in the first place.

It shouldn’t bother him. You’re not his. Not really.

But your absence wraps around him tighter than your presence ever did. It digs into the space you carved out and reminds him, cruelly, that he let you get too close. That he’s not fine. That maybe he does need you—not in the abstract, but in the bone-deep, can’t-sleep-right-without-you-here kind of way.

And now, he doesn’t know what to do with that.

Doesn’t know how to ask you to come back without sounding like he’s falling apart. Doesn’t know how to admit he’s been leaning on you this whole time, even when he swore he wasn’t.

He picks up his phone again. Scrolls up to your last message — two days ago. A dumb meme and a heart emoji.

He stares at it longer than he should.

Then, quietly, he types out:

Did I do something?

He doesn’t send it.

Just leaves it there, cursor blinking.

Waiting.

Then someone knocks on his front door.

Somehow he knows it’s you before even standing up to answer it. Like he can feel your warmth through the old wood.

It’s funny, how just the sound of your knuckles against his door—three soft taps like always, calmed him down from his tense battle in his mind. And when he opens it, you’re just standing there in that old jacket he likes on you—his jacket—hands in your pockets, eyes tired but warm.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just blinks like he’s not sure you’re real.

“I didn’t mean to go quiet.” You say softly, already stepping inside like you never left. “Got caught up. Shit week.”

He nods. Says, “Yeah, no worries,” like he hasn’t been unraveling for days.

But you look at him a little too long. And he knows you’ve seen it.

The bags under his eyes. The slightly off-center tension in his posture. The way he doesn’t meet your gaze for too long, like if he does, everything he’s been holding in might just spill out all at once.

You don’t push.

You just move through the flat like you belong there, like the gap in the last few days didn’t stretch painfully wide between you. You toss your bag on the floor, kick off your shoes, and when you pass him, your fingers brush his briefly—not enough to be obvious, just enough to ground him.

He doesn’t realize how tight his shoulders were until they start to loosen.

Later, you’re curled up on the couch, legs under you, flipping through the TV with half-interest. He hasn’t said much. He’s just sitting beside you, head tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed, listening to the sound of you being here again.

“I missed this,” You murmur, casual.

His eyes open, sharp, like that one sentence tugged something deep.

You turn your head to look at him. “I missed you, Kyle.”

His name from your mouth does something to him. Always has.

He wants to brush it off, say something easy—“Right back at you”, or “Someone’s gotta put up with me”—but he doesn’t. Not this time.

He swallows instead. Quiet. Raw.

“I didn’t like it when you were gone.”

Your eyes soften. Not with pity—never pity. Just understanding.

“I know,” You say gently, and scoot closer. Your hand finds his, warm and sure. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were alone again.”

He lets out a shaky breath. Not quite relief. Not quite fear. Just something too big to name.

“You didn’t,” He lies.

You squeeze his hand once. “Yeah, I did. And I’m sorry.”

There’s silence for a moment—but not the bad kind. The kind where breathing gets easier.

He shifts then, a little awkwardly, a little helplessly—and lets his head drop onto your shoulder like it’s the only place that makes sense.

And when your fingers start threading through his hair, slow and steady, he finally exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

No words. Just you. Here.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like enough.

Then, when you say you need to talk to him—really talk to him, he gets scared.

But instead of the belittling scolding he thought he’d get from you, (“I need space, I don’t have time to be taking care of a man-baby right now.”he could think of other things you’d say, but it’d just make his eyes water and spill, decorating his cheeks in a clear, beautiful way) you just let him rest his head on your shoulder, his weight warm and solid and a little heavier than usual. His hand loops through yours, loose but not letting go, like he’s afraid you might vanish again if he does.

But eventually, you speak. Low. Careful.

“Kyle.”

He makes a soft sound—not quite a word—like he hears you, but doesn’t want to move.

“You’ve been doing it again,” You say gently.

That gets a reaction. His fingers twitch. His body goes just a little tense against yours.

You keep going, voice soft. Not accusing. Just truthful.

“Building your world around me without saying it out loud. Letting everything lean a little harder on me than it should.”

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t speak. But you can feel it in him—the way he holds himself a little too still. Like he’s waiting for you to be angry. To tell him he’s too much. Too needy. Like everyone else eventually did.

You shift, just enough to look at him. His eyes are on the floor, jaw tight.

“I don’t mind,” You say.

His eyes flick up—guarded, hopeful, wrecked all at once.

You squeeze his hand. “I just don’t want you to break if I’m gone for a few days.”

He looks like he’s been hit in the chest. Swallows hard. Doesn’t know what to do with the softness in your voice. Doesn’t know how to answer without admitting how much of what you’re saying is true.

You keep going, because someone has to say it.

“You’ve been carrying so much for so long, I don’t think you remember what it’s like to stand on your own. And now that I’m here, I think you’re scared I’ll be the next thing to disappear.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just nods, slow. Miserable.

“I’m not mad,” You whisper. “But I want to help, not just hold you up when you’re falling.”

He closes his eyes. Breathes out like he’s in pain.

“I don’t mean to—” He starts, then falters.

“I know.”

You brush his knuckles with your thumb. Gentle. Steady.

“I want to help you build something stronger than this. . . than just me. I’ll still be here, but you need something that doesn’t fall apart when I’m not in the room.”

He leans into your touch, quiet. Vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Help me. . . please,” He says finally. Barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to do it.”

You nod. “We’ll figure it out. Together. But you’ve got to meet me halfway.”

He doesn’t answer with words.

Just leans into you, forehead pressed to your shoulder like it’s the only place he’s sure won’t fall away. And you let him. You hold him steady—not to carry him, but to show him he doesn’t have to walk alone anymore.

It starts here.

Not with a fix. Not with a promise. But with a choice.

To stay; to help him learn how.

It starts with silence.

Not the aching kind that used to fill the room like smoke—but the kind that settles. Gentle. Mutual. His forehead rests against your shoulder, your hand still in his hair, the weight of his admission lingering between you like something fragile and sacred.

Help me.

You’d never heard him sound so small. So real. And you don’t say anything for a long moment because you know what it costs him to ask.

But when you finally speak, your voice is steady.

“Okay.”

He exhales against your collarbone—not relief exactly, but something close. Like a knot pulled loose in his chest.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, and you touch his cheek with the back of your hand—a small gesture, but one that anchors him. “We take it one step at a time,” you say. “No pressure. No rush.”

His nod is barely there, but it’s enough.

It starts slow.

No big changes. No dramatic speeches. Just little things—nough that he doesn’t feel like the ground’s shifting under him. You know him too well to push.

First, it’s the mornings.

You start texting him early, even if you’re not around. Simple stuff. Up yet? Go brush your teeth, love. Don’t make me come over there. He rolls his eyes every time, but he answers. Every single time.

Then, it’s lists.

You sit down with him one evening—calm, casual—and say, “Let’s make a routine for you. Just the basics.” He grumbles, but you see the way his fingers tighten on the pen when you hand it to him. Like structure feels safer than he wants to admit.

He starts small:

• Wake up.

• Shower.

• Eat something that isn’t toast.

• Go for a walk.

• Check in—with someone. Anyone.

You help him set reminders. You don’t treat him like he’s broken—just tired. Just someone who’s been holding the world up alone for too long.

Then comes the harder part.

“Talk to Price,” You say gently one night, when he’s stretched out on the couch and not quite asleep.

He stiffens. “Why?”

“Because he’s known you longer than me. He cares. And he’s seen this before—in other people. In himself, probably.”

Gaz doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched.

“I’m not saying unload everything,” You continue, soft but firm. “Just let someone else see you. Outside of me.”

It takes three days.

Then he texts you a photo—a blurry shot of two coffee mugs on a table, Price’s hand halfway in frame.

Talked. Didn’t explode. No emotional damage. Might try again.

You don’t reply right away. You let him sit in that little win. Let him own it.

You build from there.

Encourage him to reconnect with the others—Soap, Laswell, anyone who’s part of his life but got pushed out by his quiet dependence on just you. It’s not about letting go of what you are to him—it’s about making space for more than just that.

Some days, he slips. Cancels plans. Shuts down. You don’t scold him. You just show up with takeout and sit beside him, quiet, patient. And he always comes back. A little steadier each time.

He starts taking walks alone. Reading again. Even finds a dog shelter nearby and volunteers once a week—says the dogs don’t ask questions he can’t answer.

You don’t say it, but you’re proud. So proud.

And one night, weeks later, you find him standing in the kitchen, phone in hand, smiling at a message.

You raise an eyebrow.

“Soap,” He says, eyes still on the screen. “Sent me a video of his dog dragging his laundry across the house.”

You blink. “You text Soap now?”

He shrugs, casual. Too casual. “He texted first. I just answered.”

But you see it. The lightness. The shift.

The first signs of something better taking root.

He still needs you. But not like before. Not like air. Not like a crutch. Now, it’s something healthier. Something chosen, not clung to.

He steps toward you and wraps his arms around your waist, grounding himself in the curve of your shoulder, your heartbeat, your warmth.

“Thank you,” He murmurs.

You smile against his hair.

“I love you too.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

[munsonsmixtapes]

May I request a wade x reader. The reader is injured/in danger and wade goes into protective/crazy mode. Thank you!

protective!wade x fem!reader

Wade was the first to admit he had a hard time getting attached to people. Especially after his whole look transformation. He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt with all of the wrongs he was trying to right, but when it came to you, all of that worry seemed to fade away.

Well, not exactly. From the moment he met you, he felt the need to stick to you like glue. He tried his best to keep his distance, but he just couldn’t. Any time he was around you, he either had you tucked into his side or he was standing behind you with an arm draped over your chest with you pressed to his chest.

And you ate it up, feeling nothing but comfort being wrapped up in his arms. The way they held you with so much care, always looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes. You felt lucky to have him, feeling nothing but warmth when he was around.

Wade was stirred from his sleep by a loud crash. His hand slid over to your side of the bed, only to find that it was empty and cold, signifying that you had been gone for quite a while.

There was another crash and Wade grabbed hurried out of the room, down the hall and down the stairs, almost falling on the way. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had to make sure that you were safe. Still alive.

He burst through the swinging door in the kitchen, rushing to you even though he had no idea what he was going into. The kitchen was an absolute mess with baking supplies all over the counter and he swore he could smell brownies.

You were on the floor, a baking sheet flipped over in front of you and you were clutching your wrist. Wade crouched in front of you and took hold of your wrist, seeing that your hand had been burned, your finger tips getting the brunt of it.

“Honey, what happened?” He asked as he blew on your hand.

“I-I just wanted some brownies,” you told him. I went to get them from the oven, but as soon as I got them out, I slipped on the egg I dropped and then I went to pick up the baking sheet, completely forgetting that it was hot.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His voice was a little louder than either of you expected, but you knew it was just because he was protective.

“I think I twisted my ankle and I didn’t want to bother you.” You watched his eyes widen then soften into that warm brown color you had grown to love.

“You never bother me. Alright, up we go,” he put one arm under your legs while the other wrapped around your back. “let’s get your hand under some cold water and put some ice on it then I’ll clean this up and we can make those brownies, hm?”

Wade brought you over to the counter next to the sink and set you down on it before turning on the water, waiting for it to get cold. You spread your legs and let him stand between them, your free hand resting on his shoulder while his went to your waist.

He grabbed hold of your other hand and brought it between the two of you, bringing it up to his lips and pressing the most gentle kiss to your finger tips.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, lowering your head and Wade was quick to hook his finger under your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Nope, none of that,” he shook his head and reached over to the sink, finding that the water was a perfect temperature. “Hand please.” You gave it to him and he gently took it, both of you leaning over to reach the water.

It felt nice on your hand and Wade moved away to grab a hand towel before filling it with ice and bringing it over to you. He then turned the tap off before wiping off your hand gently then placing the ice on top of it.

“Good?” He asked, eyeing your facial expression to make sure that you were going to tell the truth.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“‘Course I do,” he furrowed his eyebrows. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Wade,” you replied and he moved to stand between your legs again, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“So, brownies?” He mumbled against your lips.

“I can’t make them,” you reminded him, holding up your hand with the ice on it.

“I’ll make them.” You let out a laugh at that, knowing that wouldn’t have been a good idea.

“Wade, I love you, but we both know you can’t bake.”

“Then you tell me how to make them and just sit there and look pretty, hm?” He pressed another kiss to your lips before grabbing the bowl to start the recipe from scratch.

[hipsdofangirl]

and when i’m back in chicago..

seokmin x reader

summary: what it could have been

genre: meet-cute, idol au, kind of melancholic ending

notes: reader and dk are iphone users, reader is a svt fan and has anxiety lol

a/n 1: DAWG IM BAWLING RN I WAS 30 FT AWAY FROM HIM AT THE BEAN GETTING INTO MY UBER AND I MISSED HIM GRRRRAAAHHH MY FCKING ULTIMATE BIAS so this is me coping and telling my experience with what i wish could have been 🙄

wc: 1.4K

not proofread

1:58 pm CST

“oh my god! the bean is not under any construction anymore!” you point out, able to discern the article text under the glaring sun.

your friend nods, tired from the lack of food and wandering around in clothes not accustomed for the 60 degree temperature. you still were high on energy, the city and sunny autumn weather fueling your excitement; along with the anxiety fueling your flight response.

you sling your phone in your pant pocket as your other palm sweats against your sling bag—one you’ve been gripping ever since you entered the large city in fear of being pickpocketed. you pick up your pace absentmindedly as your friend trudges behind you.

you glance back at them. “since it’s a major tourist spot, no doubt they will have food.”

you could imagine a cartoon-ish sigh of relief exude from them as their own pace slightly picks up.

the gardens slowly wade behind you as you trudge through them, searching for any sign of a enormous metal bean. sweat glues your shirt to your back as your fingers trail against the leather portion of your bag.

after walking on a curved path beside the pavilion, your eyes blank out on the promised free bean. you've seen it before—a long time ago—but your friend has never seen the iconic tourist attraction.

although some conditions weren’t in your favor, you hoped they could at least enjoy seeing some things not everyone gets to. their immediate attention goes to the overpriced food trucks right beside it; however, knowing that both of you haven’t ate in 6 hours means money didn’t mean a thing.

they pat your shoulder. “i’m going to get a hot dog and a water, you want anything?” you shake your head, too entranced with the surroundings of everyone interacting.

“i’m fine—thank you though. i’ll be on the bench over there,” you reply wistfully.

your friend pretends to understand and strolls quickly to the nearest truck. in the meantime, you stand alone on the burning concrete sidewalk, enjoying the scenery.

the air seemed fresh next to the gardens, with the trees colliding alongside the massive skyscrapers, reaching to the clouds past the sky.

“ah—pardon me?” a man under a black hoodie jump-scares you, face flinching in response; your hands absentmindedly clasps your belongings.

you take a brief look at the tall tan man as he himself jumps a bit at your own response.

you chuckle before a light laugh escapes. “sorry! you scared me—is there anything i can help you with?”

he pauses. you discern his previously concerned eyes—the only part of his face you can see—as they focus on the ground before darting back up to meet yours once again. his eyes disappear behind a crinkle, forming smiles of their own you imagine.

he waves his hands, phone in one. “no no! i am sorry,” you can hear an accent, “i took picture of you—“

your brows furrow, lips pursing; he catches on immediately.

“oh um—“ he mutters something in another language which you can recognize as korean, “you looked really pretty.” your face turns hard pink and you hope he only believes it’s from the heat. “and the sun looked pretty and i had to take a photo, but i want your…support for it?”

it was obvious he wasn’t even sure of himself; the hands flailing from you to the sun and back to you says it all. you slowly nod, trying to understand his words. you glance to his eyes, searching for any soul behind them; that soul digs into your own for something sincere that you can’t quite place yet.

the world just seems to encapsulate you two as you can hear light scratching of his fingernails against his phone case, tugging your attention away to the new source. you can feel his gaze linger on your skin before he follows your gaze.

he almost yelps, “oh! here!” he scrambles to open his phone. as easy as it was to open a previously opened app, you linger yourself on his hands, seemingly red and scratchy.

you don’t even notice people briskly walking past you, staring in your direction; you don’t even notice another man, yet older and in all black clothing, walk over to the backside of the man you are talking to.

his phone is brazenly shoved into your face, forcing you to realize how close he has gotten to your right side. you could feel his quick breathing and additional warmth radiating from him; you wonder if you seemed to be the creep between the both of you. the blush returns as you force yourself to stand still. you look down to what he is showing you.

it’s a picture of you. where you were standing. he was right. the afternoon sun glow shined beside you onto the camera perfectly. the trees colliding alongside the massive skyscrapers, reaching to the clouds past the sky.

you swallow, noting your dry mouth. “wow—that’s. that’s really good.”

“right?” he isn’t looking at the photo anymore. he is slightly bending down, so you are able to meet his eyes as equals. he suddenly cuddles into his black jacket a bit more. “you like?”

you swallow again, “mhm! it’s amazing. candids really are something.” you mentally hit yourself with the stupidest remark.

he chuckles. “give me your phone.” your eyes widen. he chuckles again a bit louder but only audible to yourselves. “so you have the photo?”

your mouth opens and his eyes close in cheer. you fiddle through your pant’s side pocket to fish out your phone. once it resides in your palm and faces him for the next set of instructions, he tugs down the top and presses on the bluetooth icon.

you glance over at him as he adjusts his settings—confirming your suspicion that he did speak korean. he then lightly tugs your wrist, facing your phone towards him. he presses the phones together and you observe as the picture airdrops to your phone.

“oh my god..” you whisper. he chuckles, breath hitting your cheeks somehow through his mask. “i didn’t know it could do that—airdrop can be tricky for me.”

he hums in response. he glances briefly at the corners of your cheeks. “only for us.”

you look back up at him with a smile. “oh for sure! thank you so much!”

he waves and nods his head. “have a good day.”

the man behind him tugs his sweatshirt and they begin to quickly stroll away. not before he glances back at you and waves shyly.

you then look around yourself, noticing some girls were angling their phones at you.

“so what was happening over here?” you friend saunters over to you, hot dog in hand and two waters tucked into her side.

you let out a breathy chuckle out of disbelief. “some dude just took a gorgeous candid of me and sent it to me.”

your friend nods and smiles. “good for you! no doubt he liked you.” she hands you the extra water bottle.

“h-huh?” you stutter, eyes widen.

your friend chuckles. “your expressions are so funny sometimes.” they pat your back as you aggressively twist off the cap. you tilt your head back and chug part of the water. they pat your back again. “slow down, you don’t want to throw that up later because i am not cleaning that up.”

you nod, this time slowly swirling the cap around the grooves of the plastic bottle.

“now let me order that uber and you show me that so-called amazing photo.”

9:59 pm CST

“—NICE!” the fifth time the song rings out never gets old. as much as your bones are exhausted, you are determined to keep up.

getting to the venue was a hectic experience, but stepping to your almost-floor seats was a whole separate experience itself. the arena was smaller than expected, but the seats were in perfect view of the extended stage, especially during the encore.

a quick snap of your phone catches the image of that same man you met the previous day.

you didn’t register what completely happened till you arrived at your hotel room, until your friend showed you a specific member’s instagram story. the road signs may have looked familiar in the background, but you hit yourself mentally for recognizing the tan man.

now, in the concert hall, he never looked over in your direction; instead, he waved to the 200s and to the people on the floor, yet you still took his photo.

even if he never notices you or remembers you, you’re content with the thought of him doing something he loves and you being part of a fleeting moment only through his eyes.

.

.

“candids really are something.”

tags: @jcxbliss

a/n 2: did i almost cry writing this ending? yes. did i cry when i barely missed him irl? yes. did i sit down just now and write everything in one sitting? yes. did i cry happy tears at the revelation that i briefly passed him? yes. god i love him so much—

thank you for making it here! have a good day and night 🫶

[fics-arcs-version]

25 Days of Jegumas - @noblehouseofgay - Decorating - 451 words

Regulus had to admit, setting up the tree in he and James’ flat had been… really fun. James had spent the day before baking cookies, so they had spent the morning decorating and dropping crumbs on the floor as they ate.

Regulus was on his knees on the rug now, their cat Maisie nuzzling against him. He was sifting through James’ giant ornament totes, some of them general, green and red. Others were sentimental ones James had gotten over the years.

Regulus turned one over to see: “James’ first Christmas - 1960”

Regulus chuckled as James returned to the room with two mugs of hot cocoa. “What’ve you got there, love?” “You still have your first Christmas ornament after twenty years?” Regulus asked with a grin. Maisie pawed at the hook and Regulus lifted it from her reach.

“Well I think that’s very serious.” James said in mock seriousness. Regulus rolled his eyes and stood, setting the ornament on the coffee table.

He lifted a mug from James’ hands and smiled. He never smiled this much before James, but it was starting to feel… normal. And it made Regulus fuzzy inside.

A small shattering tore Regulus from his thoughts, and he whipped around to see Maisie had pawed the ornament off the coffee table. He immediately dropped to his knees, thudding the mug to the coffee table and gathered the shards in his hands.

“O-oh James, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have put it where she could get it, I-I’m so stupid, I–”

Regulus didn’t even realize he was crying until James swiped tears off his cheeks.

“Love, it’s alright–”

“No it’s not!” Regulus sobbed out, letting James gently pluck the broken and jagged halves from his hands. “That’s something you-you kept safe for twenty years and I fucked it up!”

“Regulus, baby, shh…” He pulled Regulus into his chest and let him cry, shaking and sobbing.

“Regulus, we can glue it back.” He whispered, kissing his head gently. They stayed like that until Regulus was hiccuping softly.

“I’ll fix it.” James murmured. Regulus felt awful still, his stomach tight and sick.

“But it’s so important…” “Reggie?” He asked softly.

“Mm…” Regulus mumbled.

“Do… are you feeling guilty because… does it have something to do with you, er, not having stuff like that?”

Regulus didn’t answer. It hurt to hear. He didn’t want to hear.

James was right though.

“Maybe.” He mumbled, nuzzling into James’ chest. He was so warm, it was hard to remember just what Regulus was crying about.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, kissing the shell of his ear. “We’ll fix it. It's okay.” They stayed like that, curled up on the rug, snuggled together, for a very long time.

[odileeclipse]

BYE I forgot to sign off my🃏anon status.... It was me that talked about how to fix your posting problem LMAO happy to help! I ate up the chapters anyways they were SO GOOD

anyways. onto the fun stuff. I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY?????? With the new chapter, does this mean that the cookie closest to MC is technically Earl Grey? Then again, it makes sense, because Earl Grey has that stability to back up MC's nervous thoughts and general lack of self esteem that Chai Latte generally doesn't have. Kinda like they complete each other? How they are complete opposites but can bounce off each other so well.

I think you did a wonderful job creating the sense of disconnect the Sage feels when seeing MC with someone that's similar to him but NOT him, and how he feels out of place in the friend group for just a moment. It gives a sense of realism because to think that the person you want to get to know and want to see all their possible sides has other people who have seen them more intimately than he ever did. OUGHHH The jealousy was GLORIOUS I loved it very much. It showed Sage that although the MC is someone slowly creeping in the cracks of his heart, he has to face the fact that they may treat others as warmly or even more warmly than him. That their relationship isn't as mutually exclusive as he once deemed it to be.

It makes me wonder if before they (MC) might have developed just a small crush on Earl Grey???? Or maybe the other way around. The kind that was fleeting and was overshadowed by their camaraderie, mostly.... or it could just be a Jo and Laurie (Little Women) thing where the feelings were there, but MC or Earl Grey confused the other as the love of their life instead of the light of their life.

This makes for a really, really good dynamic though since Earl Grey and Shadow Milk are very similar, and this may be a cause for Doubt for the Sage since right now he and MC have this unseen gap they can't bridge partly due to how MC still sees him in a higher than life itself light due to their insecurity that they may never reach his level as equals. UGHHHH ODI YOUR STORY IS WONDERFUL HANDS DOWN

apologies for the long yap I really really enjoyed this sm and analyzed it down to the very letter 😭, I hope you continue on blessing us with this wonderful writing. I'll eagerly await it!! Always take your time though, and take breaks!!

-🃏

My computer shut down as I was replying and my answer got deleted im gonna crash out

But like I was saying...MC isn’t necessarily closer to one friend over the others their group is balanced, with each person playing a role that complements the rest. Earl Grey may be the grounding one, offering stability when MC’s insecurities spiral, but that doesn’t make him the closest, just the most steadying presence. Chai Latte brings warmth and energy, while Hazelnut, though not as much screen time(writing time), is the glue that holds them all together his absence is always felt, even if he isn’t always the most vocal all the time. Their dynamic works because they complete each other, each friendship filling in the gaps where the other might not. And while there may have been a time when MC and Earl Grey wondered if their bond could be something more, they naturally settled into friendship, realizing that loving each other platonically simply made the most sense.

For Shadow Milk Cookie, though, that balance is something he can’t quite slip into. He sees the way MC fits so naturally with their friends, the way their dynamic is effortless, and for a moment, he feels like an outsider looking in. He may share similarities with Earl Grey, but it only makes the contrast sharper MC never placed Earl Grey on a pedestal, never hesitated the way they do with him. And that divide, however unintentional, lingers like an unspoken truth between them. And even further down the line, even when they themselves (MC and SMC) feel there is no divide between them, the reality is there always will be a line between them, not because they can't work through it but because it's not easy to take someone off a pedestal.

[wileys-russo]

can we have a ficlet for hopeless with tooney

hopeless

"el did something just fall?" you frowned hearing a thump from ella's kitchen, going to stand as the mancunian was quick to push you back down.

"maybe! i'll go check, gotta make sure the potatos hasn't grown legs and walked out the pot." the girl joked, beaming at the small laugh it earned her. she went to hurry away but hesitated, turning back around and kissing you sweetly before she did.

bursting into her kitchen and spotting alessia clutching at her stomach on the floor trying her best to silently laugh, ella's eyes narrowed.

"would you shut up! she'll hear ya." ella hissed, smacking alessia harshly with a wooden spoon as the blonde sat up. "hey we're doin you a massive favour here tooney. bit of respect yeah?" mary snatched the utensil from her grasp as ella huffed.

"it has to go perfect! please." her tone softened on that last word, as did both her friends faces who nodded, mary extending a hand and helping alessia to her feet. "i don't see why you didn't just take her out for a nice meal tooney." alessia sighed, dusting the flour off of her shorts which had been what caused her to slip in the first place.

"cause we always go out and i want to do somethin special when i ask her!" ella explained, rubbing her face with a stressed groan. "el is everything okay? are you sure i can't help?" her eyes widened as you called out from the living room.

"i'm sure love i'll be in in just a minute!" she yelled back, gesturing her hands around for mary and alessia to continue cooking. "lying is hardly the way to start a relationship tooney." mary warned, dismissed by the younger girl who darted back out of the kitchen, firmly closing the doors behind her.

the two of you had been on a handful of dates by now and ella had never been more sure she wanted you officially as her girlfriend. but with a panicked mind and determined to impress you she wanted to do it in the most special way she could.

she knew though you weren't shy you didn't love large crowds, so with that in mind she didn't want to ask you anywhere you'd feel you had the pressure of an audience. so naturally her home seemed to fit best, finally having moved out of millie's place and into one of her own.

so she'd invited you round for a nice meal after training, disguising it as she'd just missed you and wanted to be able to spend more than five minutes alone with you, your team mates constantly teasing or interrupting the two of you.

there was just one problem and that was that ella couldn't cook to save her life, and she worried if she did cook that if you ate whatever she did she might jeopardize your life.

so practically getting on her knees to beg the two older girls, was how she'd roped mary and alessia into being her own secret chefs for the evening, having had many a delicious meal at either of their respective houses.

"everything okay?" you asked with a small frown of concern as ella joined you again, nodding quickly. "hand towel rack just fell down, cheap glue." she'd hastily lied, internally hitting herself for how lame it sounded.

"ya best not have looked at my cards kid!" ella warned playfully, taking her seat beside you and swiping her pile back up off the coffee table. "the only cheater here is you, i've seen how you use maya as a decoy when they play poker on the bus." you grinned, ella scoffing and waving you off.

"i have simply no idea what you're talkin bout baby."

you swooned at the pet name paired with her thick accent, surprising the girl with a quick kiss before you got comfortable again. "right. got any four's?" you questioned, peering at her over the top of your cards. "you did look at them!" ella accused, grumpily handing over a few cards.

"nah, i just have x-ray vision." you teased with a wink. "what colour's my underwear then?" ella gave you a toothy grin and a wink as you smacked her forehead with a playing card.

"do you have to check on dinner babe? i don't want you to get distracted by my good looks and winning charm." you teased after a few more rounds, ella unfortunately on a hot streak of winning, not able to bring herself to confess she was using her floor to roof mirror behind you to cheat.

"think we both know who the real winner is love." ella smirked, ruffling your hair before she grabbed your face and pressed a searing kiss to your lips, pecking them a few more times as you chased for them to return, watching as she gave you a cheeky wave and darted off to the kitchen.

ella sighed in relief as she spotted her best friends putting the finishing touches on the meal, already having dished most of it up. "oh god i could kiss ya both!" ella groaned gratefully, hugging both girls tightly who smiled, both adoring to see their two team mates finally smitten and happy with one another despite how much they teased the two of you for it.

"yeah yeah yeah. don't forget you owe us!" mary warned, handing ella a plate packed to the brim. "big time tooney, and we will be cashing in." alessia added on, handing her another plate stacked high with food as ella nodded furtively.

thanking them again as they both sat up on the counter with their own food, ella was very careful as she used her back to open the door to the kitchen. "dinner is served!" ella sung out, heart soaring at the way your eyes lit up.

"ah!" ella warned, holding up a hand and pulling out your chair for you. "what a gentlewoman you are." you smiled, bending your head back as she pressed a tender kiss to your lips. "this smells amazing." you sighed happily, ella having already set the table with candles and a gorgeous bunch of flowers to further set the mood.

"before we eat! i wanted to ask ya somethin." ella started as you nodded, encouraging her to continue. "okay." ella wiped her palms on her pants, slightly clammy with nerves.

"just gonna come out and say it. will ya be my girlfriend?" ella rambled out, the entire two page speech she'd written earlier that day and rehearsed over and over with alessia's help thrown out the window.

"of course i will el, nothing would make me prouder." you smiled softly, pushing your chair back a little and leaning in, ella meeting you in the middle as you shared a tender kiss.

"now. are you going to invite your little helpers to eat with us or are they banished to the kitchen?" you smirked, twirling your fork around in your fingers as ella's eyes almost bugged out of her head.

"what! ya knew the whole time? how?"

"el...i've eaten more of mary's roast dinners than i've had hot showers. i knew the moment i stepped inside and smelled her cooking! and less's mercedes is a bit hard to miss parked out the front." you laughed, ella thumping back into her chair with a groan.

"it was a very sweet idea but next time i can happily cook us dinner, girlfriend."

[tw1nkd3ath]

i am bored and have had A Long Day so have some party poison headcanons:

•they/them (obviously). their gender is simultaneously every gender and no gender at the same time

•they have borderline personality disorder. this caused them to be extra medicated back in the city. now, they’re finally off of any and all pills, and they’re learning how to actually live with their disorder. loves reading books about mental health, and trying to figure out how to take care of themself.

•speaking of drugs, poison quit the city pills before they escaped the city. they quickly fell into other pills and drugs in the zones though. it was familiar, and it made their brain shut up for once. they have very bad PTSD, more than anyone in the zones. they don’t know just how bad it actually is, and they’ll never speak of it, but the other three know just by the way poison is. they got clean after moving into the diner. they felt safe for once, and the other three were so supportive in keeping them off of drugs. it’s hard to deal with flashbacks and all of that; every day has to be taken one step at a time with them, but they’re making it through.

•loves dancing. more than anything, really. get them drunk and on a dance floor, and their smile is wider than you’ll ever see it. they love parties and clubs, until they don’t and they’re ready to go home. they’ll dance for hours, and all of a sudden they’ll go over to one of the other three and poke them on the shoulder and that’s when they all know they’re getting overstimulated and want to go home and crash.

•yknow how i said they love dancing more than anything? well i lied. the one thing they love more than dancing is singing. they’ll take the AM and go on drives where they sing for miles and miles to whatever’s on the radio. ghoul and kobra make them tapes of their favorite songs, and sometimes the four of them will have carpool karaoke.

•goes for drives to clear their head. they’re normally not allowed to go alone, unless one of the others approves it (poison once wrecked an old car of theirs while angry driving, they don’t wanna talk about it). normally ghoul will go with them, riding shotgun with poison’s hand in theirs. poison drives until they can’t remember what was bothering them when they first turned the key.

•surprisingly a very good cook. them and jet love to cook for the others when they have the ingredients to. poison’s favorite is what they call ‘slutty pasta,’ it’s pasta with a shitload of cheese melted into the sauce. yes, it does make them sick. yes, they will eat it anyway.

•loves looking cute all of the time. even their pajamas are somehow cute and coordinated.

•cannot own un-modified clothes. they have to personalize everything, and they’ve got a whole booth in the diner reserved for whatever patches they’re painting or skirt they’re making or jacket they’re embroidering. dr. death gives the fab four almost all of the art supplies he gets; between poison and kobra they blow through paints and glues and threads and things.

•sketchbooks sketchbooks sketchbooks. they’ve got two right now that they’re working on. they’ll glue/tape little things to the pages, so it’s sort of like a scrapbook with art and writing in it. they will tape literal garbage in it, though. they’ve got the butt of their first cigarette out of the city, a list someone gave them of thrift shops out in the zones, a piece of paper bag ghoul used to scoop weed grounds one time, and so on. the others poke fun of them for this, but they really love how sentimental poison is. show pony has a polaroid camera, and loves to take pictures of their friends and give them the little prints. poison glues them all into their sketchbooks, and looks through them when they’re having a bad day.

•in eating disorder recovery, killjoy style. they hardly ate when jet and ghoul found them and kobra, and they’re trying so hard to help them recover. if poison is struggling to eat a meal in front of them, ghoul will go “hey poison. you’re a pussy if you don’t eat that mac and cheese.” or “you’re not a real killjoy if you don’t eat all those chicken nuggets,” all while sporting a shit-eating grin. poison and kobra have gotten themselves both to a healthy weights finally, and everyone couldn’t be happier.

•cigarettes are their one true love. they first started smoking when they were fourteen. they dislike vaping (even though it’s become quite the fad in the zones, ever since people started smuggling them out of the city), they vaped for around a year and it killed their lungs. cigarettes only for poison, and they’d have it no other way.

•yknow how i said they decorate their clothes? well they also decorate the diner. they’ll hang up art made by them or kobra all over the walls of the diner, and they let kobra paint straight onto the walls.

•loves science for some reason? dr. death gives them all sorts of books on biology and animals and ecosystems and such, and they absolutely love it. they wanna be a biologist in another life. they love teaching the others about shit they read, like animal facts and such. kobra will listen to poison infodump for hours.

that is all for now thank you

[bittersweetorpheus]

I’ve been getting into otome game lately, and finally had some free time, so… why not integrate the mechanics with Bungou Stray Dogs? I think there’s some huge potential for fanfics! Might turn into a series depending on the response I get ^^

An isekai: a Japanese term translating to ‘other word’. Always following the same plot— the protagonist who is transported to a fantasy world, game world, or parallel universe after dying in this boring normal one (usually via truck).

Yours had been your own fault, but death wasn’t as distressing as realizing bitterly that anime worlds were, in fact, real, and you were stuck in some random anime/manga you’d hyperfixated (curse your autistic tendencies) on for years but never actually watched or read. Bungou Stray Dogs, was its name. A world where ability users, those granted a single power based on classical literature and named after real life authors, prowled the streets.

You ate, slept, worked, rinse and repeat.

Or you did. Until you accidentally changed the whole damn genre of the manga! And the title, as well. Ahem, let us present… I Got Isekaied and Accidentally Caught the Eye of Fucked Up Criminals Because of Plot Convenience?!

Ah, the classic trope of the title spoiling the entire premise. But, we’ll need a little more context then that, won’t we?

—————

[REWIND TIME TO INTERLUDE?]

*YES* | NO

—————

You, fresh out from another shift of ‘standing around the warehouse and doing nothing at all’, had been mindlessly making your way home when— distracted by some shitty gacha game on your phone— stumbled right into an active crime scene. Active as in: the murder was currently being committed.

Dead police officers, a jester in a fully white outfit, portals opening up behind you…

Shit. You’d totally interrupted Nikolai’s introduction scene, hadn’t you? Your first thought was to curse yourself for your own stupidity at being so distracted by shitty, addicting mobile games that you failed to notice a crime scene going on in broad daylight.

Nikolai, still in that creepy clown getup, slowly turned his head towards you. His eyes narrowed, as though assessing you, before a smile slid onto his face.* “Looks like we have a little mouse who’s wandered into a tiger’s den! Hehe, you’re so cute, I might play around with you for a bit!”

You cringed. Who was in charge of writing dialogue for out-of-script scenes? Nikolai’s words were along the lines of what one would expect from an awkward bedroom partner who’d only ever stuck to the more vanilla side of things. Then again, it fit his happy-go-lucky-serial-killer persona, you supposed. Characters couldn’t be fleshed out in their very first scene, that was just rushed writing.

Pretending you had dialogue options to help ease her stress, you went with the safest one. “Wow. What a horrible crime scene. Please don’t stab me.” Ok, new issue: you absolutely sucked at acting when under pressure! It didn’t sound genuine at all!

Nikolai let out a small, low ‘pfft’ at your words, his shoulders shaking with the effort of containing his laughter. “Hey, hey, hey! It’s no fun when you’re so scared and shaky like that! You’re too cute!” Did Nikolai just… break character? This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it? That smile of his widened into a full blown grin. Shit. Were they self aware?

“Say, mousey, I’m curious about something,” he practically purred out, leaning down to get in your face, “How is it that you haven’t panicked and run away yet? I just slaughtered four whole policemen, after all.” His eyes narrowed, and he scrutinized you closely, searching for something that you couldn’t see.

> Punch him! Kick him!

> Run off now that he mentioned it—

> Confuse him by going from blunt to philosophical…

Those were the three options your frazzled mind presented you with. Mentally, you clicked on the third. Perhaps impulse-decision making was better left up to other people.

“Glue trap.” You said, fucking yourself over further. “You know, ‘cause you compared me to a mouse. But, like, aren’t we all mice? Stuck in glue traps, that is. Ugh, whatever. Look, it’s a perfectly natural reaction: fight, flee, or freeze.“

—————

*➳ NIKOLAI AFFECTION +5 -> TOTAL NIKOLAI AFFECTION: 5/120 ♡*

—————

“Glue trap?” Nikolai repeated, his expression briefly baffled. Clearly he hadn’t expected *that* from you.

He seemed to ponder something, then he abruptly stepped even closer, still towering over you. Nikolai put his gloved hand on your forehead, almost a bit like he was checking for a fever. With the difference being that he was way too close now. You could practically feel his breath brush against your skin, and it sent shivers down your spine.

This guy was way too damn close. The hell was he doing?

Nikolai finally pulled away, a thoughtful expression on his face. He began to circle you slowly, and his fingers drummed against his chin, as though deep in thought. “…Mousey,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, more contemplative. Uh, what? “Have we… met before? Your voice… sounds familiar.”

You, the rizz god (maybe now wasn’t the time to use stupid internet terms), couldn’t help but ignore all the red flags that had popped up from that very same statement you’d heard far too many times before in otome games, so you could… make it into an inappropriate-for-the-situation pick up line. Well, ya missed 100% of the shots you didn’t take, though you weren’t quite sure you wanted this one in the first place. “No. But we *could* meet again, as a cute couple. Not a serial killer and unwilling witness. Only if you don’t murder me. Dating a corpse would be boring. I think.”

—————

*➳ NIKOLAI AFFECTION +10 -> TOTAL NIKOLAI AFFECTION: 15/120 ♡*

—————

Nikolai froze, wide-eyed and a strange expression on his face. Then he began to laugh. For once, his laugh wasn’t crazed or unhinged. It was a normal laugh, one full of genuine amusement.

He continued to chortle for a few more seconds, before he finally stopped and tried to compose himself again. Nikolai shook his head, but there was still a wide smile on his face. “Damn, do you have a death wish? Or do you make a habit of flirting with serial killers?” He paused, stepping even closer as if he just realized something. “Hold on, can you say something for me?”

“If it’s something along the lines of ‘I love you’, then it’s too early for the plot. And out of character, I have commitment issues. Just to be clear.” You made sure to word that a very particular way, praying Nikolai wouldn’t inadvertently confirm your suspicions that you’d ended up in one of those ‘self aware/third wall breaking’ alternate universes.

—————

*➳ NIKOLAI AFFECTION -5 -> TOTAL NIKOLAI AFFECTION: 10/120 ♡*

—————

*Nikolai chuckled, the amusement never leaving his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, still towering over you. Nikolai’s smile was just a tad bit unsettling.* “No no, mousey, not that. I was thinking something a bit less cliche.”

He paused, and that thoughtful look returned to his face. Nikolai tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at you, almost like he was trying to figure out a complex puzzle. “Say something. Anything. And don’t try to act. Just speak,” he insisted.

How the hell were you supposed to gauge whether he was self aware or not from that answer? Today just wasn’t your day. You not only messed with the plot line, but the character dynamics as well, by introducing herself into it. Damn! Why couldn’t this position have been given to some die-hard fangirl, instead of some office worker who’d only fixated on the franchise for a year or so.

“…I wish this was a shoujo instead of a seinen?” You blurted out. Even a shounen would’ve been better, with a power scaling system and hardworking main character. But, nope! Bungou Stray Dogs just had to fall into the seinen category because of heavy themes you in no way wanted to deal with.

A game over screen flashed before your eyes, at the very same time Nikolai’s portals did. Let’s hope you quick-saved, as this would be a rather humiliating end for you.

[manyimaginativemuses]

He Ate My Heart - Remmick/OC - Chapter 8

(SPECIAL THANKS TO MY AMAZING FRIEND @hyoscyxmine FOR WRITING MARA’S BIT AT THE END! Mara is her oc I’m including in this fic so I’m so glad she’s helping me out with her writing! Go follow her, she’s so talented!)

Chapter Warnings: Injuries, wound healing, mild stalking

Read on AO3!

———————————————

Since she had been attacked, Maeve hadn’t seen Remmick. It was like he disappeared into the night, like her torment was finally over. She often waited for the sun to set to see if he would show up, but she never did. For months he vanished, and despite Maeve enjoying the silence, his disappearance also tore a hole in her heart that she couldn’t fix.

The odd thing though was that despite Remmick not showing up, someone else had begun to. Maeve would notice, almost every night, a shadowy figure making its way either to the horse stables or to the main farmhouse and just… stand there. It didn’t do anything, it didn’t say anything, it just stood there… watching. Maeve never said anything about it as it didn’t seem to be harming anyone, but she still kept a wary eye on it.

Little did she know it was the one vampire that Remmick had left alive the last time he saw her: Mara.

Mara had been absolutely captivated by the young blonde man she’s seen in the stables that night. She couldn’t understand why, after all this time, some random human with hair like the sun had her so entangled in his grasp without even meaning to. She’d been following him from the shadows, watching him quietly as he worked and as he played, noticing how calm and relaxed he became whenever he was around the animals. Gambling seemed to be his vice though. She watched him have many a poker night with his brothers and other visitors, the only problem was he wasn’t very good at it. Mara often found herself giggling for the first time in decades when she saw him lose and throw his cards down aggressively. But then he’d pay it all back by blessing the room with music. He played the guitar and sang like an angel and Mara grew even more hypnotized.

One evening, however, she’d been so entranced with watching his morning routine that she completely lost track of them. When she eventually figured out what time it was, the sun was already on the rise.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit SHIT!” Mara muttered under her breath, knowing she wouldn’t have the time to make it back to the coven before the sun rose. So she did the only thing she could think of which was run to the stables, the closest building with no windows, and rush inside. She gripped at her hair nervously, pacing back and forth as the horses started making noises at the sight of this new stranger. She’d been so caught up with trying to avoid the sun that she didn’t realize the horses freaking out had caught the attention of Liam, the object of her obsession.

“What the hell?” He muttered, quickly making his way over to the stables and throwing open the doors. Suddenly the sound of horrific pained screams reached his ears and the sight of a young terrified woman running out of the way of the sunlight made him freeze where he stood. He watched the poor woman run towards the hay bales in the back, nearly diving into them to avoid him. He didn’t get to see much of her before she ran but he did see she was injured, her flesh seemingly peeling off from the bone. He nodded to himself before running back towards the house, leaving the doors to the stables open as he forgot to close them.

“Hey Declan! Where’s the first aid kit again?” Liam called as he rushed back into the house.

“In the cabinet in the bathroom, why? You alright?” Declan called back as he was reorganizing his map collection.

“Yeah I’m ok, Aoife must’ve gotten caught on the hinge of her door again, I keep tellin you we need to fix that fuckin thing!” He shouted back and Declan rolled his eyes.

“If Aoife don’t keep her big fat ass off that hinge, I’m gonna get her made into glue, I swear!” Liam laughed to himself at Declan’s comment before grabbing the first aid kit and heading back out towards the stables.

Mara, meanwhile, was full blown panicking in the hay bale. Her entire body stung like she’d been set on fire, and there was nowhere she could go as he’d left the doors open. She hyperventilated as she desperately tried to figure out what to do, only to freeze once more when she heard someone come back into the barn. She tensed up even more when he slowly approached the hay bale in which she was hiding.

Liam spotted the woman in her hiding spot and took great care not to spook her. He felt his heart breaking as he saw the state of her, her arms and legs covered in blisters and cuts. He couldn’t see her face as it was obscured by both her hair and the hay, but it was clear she was watching him. He knelt down beside her and raised his hands defensively, trying to show her he didn’t mean her any harm. She reminded him of a terrified lamb that he found caught in some barbed wire as a child, and he was just as determined to help her as he was then. He opened up the first aid kit beside him and pulled out the gauze and disinfectant, making sure to go slowly so he didn’t startle her.

“Just gonna clean these up… don’t want it gettin infected.” He clarified, his voice soft and small as he tried to keep her calm. Mara stared at him in disbelief, wondering what the hell he was doing being so kind to her as he took her arm and gently began dabbing it with the disinfectant. She hissed with pain from the sting and Liam winced, “Im sorry… it’s better to get it clean now than let it fester later.” He explained and continued cleaning her up. She watched him like a hawk, trembling as he cleaned all the open burns he could see before wrapping clean gauze over each one. He did this for each limb and every inch of skin that was injured, taking as long as he needed to be satisfied that she wouldn't get an infection. Once he finished, he nodded again, slowly standing back up with his first aid kit in hand.

“You can stay here for the rest of the day, although I’d suggest you leave sooner than later. I’m kinder than my brothers when it comes to strays in the barn, so when you get your strength back, please stay safe ok?” Liam said, “And try not to spook the horses on your way out.” He smiled at her before leaving and closing the stable doors behind him.

Mara hadn’t moved from her spot in the hay bales. Her body still shook from pain as it was slowly mending the burns. Her mind was racing as she tried to digest what had just happened. The man who she had a curious affinity for, the one who she had been stalking for the past few months, the man she had been careful to get too close to, had just tended to her wounds. She couldn’t make sense of it. Why would he do something so kind for someone he didn’t even know? Why would he help her after her own stupidity of staying out too long had caused her this pain. Why hadn’t he asked for anything in return?

Mara shifted slightly, groaning from the pain as she raised her arm up to study it, taking note how the bandages were wrapped intricately around her arm. She thought back to how gentle Liam was, how dextrous his work had been. Although, it was futile. Common human remedies and medicine had no effect on her healing but she refused to remove them, wanting to remember his act of kindness for a bit longer.

Mara fiddled with the edge of one of the bandages, trying to mimic the feeling of his touch as she thought back to what Liam said to her. Please stay safe, ok? The idea of him wanting her to be safe tugged at something in her heart. Something she hadn’t felt before and it was confusing to say the least. Although it was clear Liam had no inkling of who or what Mara was, she still held his words close to her, letting them replay in her head like a sweet melody. The longer she thought about it the more prominent her curiosity became. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to hear his voice again, yearning to feel his touch again. The feeling of a melancholic ache hummed inside her chest and she knew nothing would be able to satisfy this feeling other than him.

[xjulixred45x]

Lancelot (4Kota) with an S/o similar to Mitsuri Kanroji(KNY)...

Like, reader is probably a hybrid between human and giant, who just looks very human and so on, but has the strength of her giant relative, compressed muscle. She was probably even from some town like Benwick or even lived near the fairies.

but then she started interacting with humans and precisely because of her human appearance (very cute) they accepted her a lot. even with her colossal strength (they thought it was her magical power).

I have a idea/feeling that she would know Lancelot from his travels with Jericho at first por when he come back from his first journey, just the reader could realize his mixed descent and would constantly bug him to be her friend.

I'm not going to lie, at first Lancelot found her a little quite annoying because of her cheerfull attitude and her insistence on being friends, but when he saw her heart he could tell that she was sincere (apart from the fact that the reader would stop if it was too much for him) so he decided at least to let her be close.

reader was someone very bright! which contrasted VERY MUCH with Lancelot's serious and stoic attitude, she would talk and talk and talk to him about things that were happening in the town, something cute she saw the other day, the huge meal that the bartender served her and that she ate it all, etc

Lancelot would just sit still and listen with his typical :| face, but in reality it amuses him that reader is surprised by such everyday things.

Even if Lancelot said that the reader was "annoying" he left out actions that showed the opposite, such as showing her things he brought from his missions, showing her his "Sin" form and in general he listened to her and even gave her advice when she asked for it.

He liked having someone so sincere for so long, but he was pretty bad at saying it verbally, so he just showed it through actions. He's a tsundere kind of guy

(imagine if he gave the reader some type of garment/ornament like in that scene with Mitsuri and Obanai🥺it would be so cute).

Reader also tends to get emotional as they grow up, when she cries, she CRY A LOT, she almost scared Lancelot away when one time she came crying with him, he was ready to kill someone, but the reader had just seen a very big snake in her shed and she got scared😅 (a very common nickname of Lancelot to the reader is "cry baby" or "dork").

By the time they are teenagers, Lancelot not only tolerates the reader more, but also appreciates her a lot, not only because she sticks to him like glue, but because she is very sincere in what she thinks and says, someone he trusts will say the true.

For this reason, Lancelot is quite cautious with the people around her, even if he appreciates and loves her, he recognizes that she lacks a little understanding that not everyone is a good person, especially when she develops a certain phase of being in love.

Although Lancelot didn't spend much time in the city, he tried to give the reader "subtle" clues about which guys were worth it (almost none) and which weren't (almost all). Fortunately or unfortunately, the reader distanced herself from almost all of them except for ONE especially despicable one. But he couldn't really make her stop, so he just rolled her eyes at every mention of the boy.

Lancelot understands that the reader wants to fall in love, in the future maybe get married and start a family, but could she PLEASE stop going after guys who aren't worth it?

The breaking point occurs when THIS JERK not only rejected Reader(that was the least), but despises her for being a giant, telling her horrible things like "only a bear would marry you" and leaving the reader heartbroken.

Obviously the guy doesn't get very far, but the words cut deep into the reader, who never really saw her strength as something bad until that moment (or her big appetite, or "unfeminine" habits) and begins to wonder, is she the one wrong?

Lancelot (even though he is somewhat bad with emotions) had to interfere and not let the reader get to her head, so what if they were rare hybrids? He wouldn't change anything about how she was a reader, NOTHING, just as she wouldn't change anything about him.

It's a nice cute little moment.

If we talk about the current relationship, it is like the dynamic of "sunshine" and "sunshine protector" (better known as "if they're smile disappears YOU DISAPPEAR). or simply an odd couple. The reader tends to be gentler with him group but somewhat clumsy while Lancelot the most responsible but much less gentle...

Even if Reader knows how to fight, there is no way she can match Lancelot's level, so she is more of a rearguard fighter. It should not be taken lightly either. Believe me, Lancelot knows...

they're like:

Lancelot: someone is going to die--(reader covers his mouth with unhuman streng)

reader: OF FUN!

Lancelot and reader take full advantage of reader's ridiculous strength! either for the benefit of people (such as clearing paths or moving heavy stuck objects, for fights, etc) or for certain little jokes.

Lancelot probably encourages the reader to basically train her giant skills, just in case she has to defend the town she lives in or herself. I don't think he can teach her how to use "heavy metal" but he can definitely give some advice regarding elementary handling.

(Lancelot has been carried princess style by reader more times than the other way around, it's fun and cute to see).

Lancelot fully supports the great reader's appetite! She burns a lot of calories with her great strength, so she needs to eat a lot, if reader convinces him enough, they can compete to see who eats the most, they have a great series of ties.

when reader really fights, she's actually pretty good! Only of course, when she eventually reaches her point of greatest exhaustion, she begins to despair and thinks she is going to die😅 Lancelot tells her half jokingly/half lovingly that she is a crybaby, but that she did quite well on her own.

(by the way, only Lancelot can call the reader a crybaby, anyone else gets a hit on the back of the head).

In general, it's like the typical "opposites attract" but it's actually quite healthy✨

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[poltergeist1111]

ᴍᴏɴᴏᴛᴏɴᴏᴜs ; 単調

3. BUTTERFLY EFFECT

BUTTERFLY EFFECT:✧˖*°࿐

The cat disappeared into the night after the rainfall.

You're not sure what you were expecting, it was most likely a lost cat of someone, whom by now probably returned to its owner after staying in your place for the night. You wake up drowsily on your bed, knocked out on the bed sheets. Maybe rain last night soothed your ever-curious soul, You didn't manage to find the cat anywhere inside your room, just like how Alice looked around, expecting to find the Cheshire cat, who had disappeared without a trace.

You didn't want to get up just yet, your limbs were tired and stuck to the bed like glue, and it was like someone swapped your spine with an old grandma’s spine. Yet, because of capitalism, (not really). You had to wake up.

Expecting to hear 127 cracks in your bones, you got up with the strength of a sloth and pushed back the door. As always, your mother was working late. She had a rare, happy expression on her face, not that one expression people always do when they win the lottery. Its the more ‘The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I am happy!’ expression. Your not quite sure what had happened to her after one day, but good for her.

You just sat on the chair, absentmindedly. The TV, which you swore was from 2 decades away was highlighting today’s sponsor, NordVPN- Ahem, sorry. 

Was highlighting the cool temperature left behind by the sudden rainfall and the sunny day that ensued after. The cerulean sky was lit up by the sun, clear with no traces of clouds lingering by. The clock read 7:25 A.M. 

You're not sure why the clock used American time as if the rest of the world hadn't been using the 24-hour clock time, isn't this Japan anyway?? Is this a souvenir bought by one of your relatives? Though you had a feeling this wasn't why your mother was brightened up.

The full plate was brought down on the table. It was one of those mornings when both of you woke up early, and your mother had already prepared breakfast. The dish wasnt your favourite, but it wasnt like you despised it with the rage of a thousand suns, you just ate it. She said your name.

“I’ve enrolled you in a school!”

She said cheerfully,

You probably spat out your food in a shocked state. How did you get in? You didn't do the entrance exam for any school? How did she enroll you? Also, what school enrolls students in the middle of the semester? You were peacefully living your life as a home-schooled student and background character without any friends, only to break that five-year streak? Middle school was horrible for you; you were never noticed, and people always overlooked you during attendance. Most friendships with other people did not last long, because you had an inkling that they didn't care much about you. 

You were always alone from birth.

So middle school was middle school, but you don't know whether high school will be worse or better. With everything that has happened in your life, change has always been a scary thing for you. You always saw it as a negative thing. You were no stranger to change, but living without for so long made you feel immune to life’s random things, which used to happen. When everything changed that fateful day.  For such a random thing to happen in your life was unknown and scary.

And that led you to seek dangerous methods outside of your comfort zone. You would constantly go to random groups on the internet as well, safe to say you did encounter a couple of questionable cults and whatnot.

Everything was black and white to you, with hues of grey.

And perhaps you will dream of seeing the kaleidoscope of colours that embrace your life when you have a human connection. Romantic or platonic, but unfiltered, raw feelings and emotions that course through your veins. You may feel afraid of change, but perhaps within you, you have yearned for it all along, a connection that makes you feel alive, that yes, you were never ignored after all.

To be never be noticed.. Was something you felt and were used to all your life.

So you pray and hope that everything will remain the same as before.

Change is not something you can attempt easily in your life. Even if you are social or not, you will always remain a bystander in your own life. Never something special to showcase, just an ordinary teenager.

It's fine,  high school is only for education anyway. I don't need to bother about other things.

If it makes my mother happy, then I'll do it for her.

Your mother was ecstatic, taking your silence as a yes.

On the other hand, Saiki was dealing with not-so-favourable circumstances. With one student (who unfortunately knew of his psychic situation), Aka the perverted student who was obsessed with girls’ panty colours for some reason, the infamous Toritsuka. After getting a new student in the middle of the semester. Another transfer student decided to join. New whispers and chaos, and rumors were circulating about this student. 

Multiple speech bubbles appeared in his head and around him. 

“I hope they don't end up being like that other transfer creep.. ”

“Are they hot?” Mr. Fish Lips said, Nobody ever liked him, just clarifying…

“I heard they were quite plain actually”...

“Another transfer student? Right! I hope they'll be one of us as friends!” said Teruhashi upon being asked about a topic. Typically, Teruhashi, in her mind, was more like “just another lame student.” One could say she was judging too early, although she was accurately correct in her description of you.

If something such as ‘new’ happens,  there will be vultures that prey upon it. 

“Heh… another person in the dark reunion’s schemes..”

Kaidou mumbled near Saiki, a dramatic scene ensues wherever this kid with eighth-grade syndrome goes. And Nendou, as usual, was empty-headed.

As plot armour goes, you ended up being inside the classroom where the main characters reside, it would’ve been more accurate if you were in the classroom where side characters are, or perhaps on another floor entirely. But the Universe hates you.

To say you were nervous was an understatement of the year, having not much social interaction outside of the cashier in your local market, nor the random old neighbour of yours that would ask how you were. So this was a big change in your life, and you hated it. The anxiety that bubbled in your stomach was not pleasant at all. Changes always meant unpredictable results, and you never liked it when something never went the way you wanted it to. Whether you got a lower score in your tests than intended or suddenly grew distant from your friendships, change never went well for you.

Quite a few students were roaming the halls. You switched out your shoes at the shoe cubicles and looked around, It's not like you knew the directions to your class, and you had to ask someone. Oh, the woes of unwanted social interaction, although it was necessary.

It's not that you can find someone approachable. Either someone looks average and you chicken out, or they're some protagonist that scared you off. Just like the brightly coloured redhead (quite literally) exercising in the halls. You can feel the heat radiating off him literally.

Or the fact you somehow opened the doors to a literal cult, (you were sure it was a cult! Or some sort of dedicated club). Dark room with the tables around to form a rectangular shape around the statue of a beautiful girl. The wall on the other hand was filled with pictures that resembled the statue, And a big sign called…

Nope, you hadn't bothered to stay any longer. 

You had sworn you were no longer going to be around questionable groups like that any more, much less of an innocent poor girl. 

Shutting the door closed, you turn around to face a person in front of you.

[generalluxun]

So as we both know this show has a few strengths and some flaws and even though the fanbase can blow the flaws out of proportion or can somehow glaze the flaws and strengths, I want to ask according to you what are the strengths and flaws of miraculous in your own pov.

ML has a solid concept. It has a broad stable of characters. It had some great interconnectivity established early on.

It's flaws? It's piddled away so much of that.

They've proven desperately insecure in their world building. They hyper-detail and retcon to remove any 'flaws'... But all that does is draw attention to the flaws, legitimize them, and often open up new flaws. When you write with the intent of justification of a mistake, it never works out.

They didn't prioritize and take advantage of their stable of characters enough. It's a strange sort of paradox that most of the cast is both simultaneously over and under exposed.

With this many characters the natural progression would have been to expand from partnership to sentai to team. It looked like that was how it would go, as of S2. You had the trio joined by 3 more. (Much)Later on you could add the rest of the roster.

The important element here is focus and priority.

As a pair Mari&Adrien should have been the PoV with greatest importance.

Then when you added the other three their stories should have gained a parity with the original two. Maybe not exactly as much, but at a tier well above the rest of the cast.

And then only later do you bring others up.

Instead the show sticks like glue to Marinette to both her detriment and that of the others. The 'one and done' S3-4 heroes did so little gor their own characters, yet ate a lot of time too. The jam was spread so thin it had no flavor.

If we hadn't tried to hero up everyone so fast we could have had their civilian sides being intro'd while the sentai did hero stuff, allowing both introduction and dynamic development to happen at the same time.

I will say that S6 has (finally) gotten some better side-character focused stuff, and that is a huge improvement.

I would almost love a reboot just to see what this new approach could do from the beginning.