#//Anyone trying to or being perceived as trying to take off the patch WILL get a nasty strike of frostbite

[dutybcrne]

The only person who has actually seen Kaeya's right eye after the immediate treatment post-Confrontation is Adelinde. He adamantly refuses to let anyone else see under it, especially those like Jean or Diluc who knew him best. The thought absolutely makes his gut churn. He would do anything to make sure no one catches sight of his eye if he can help it. Anything.

[glassautomaton]

How does Iris act when she's sick? I have this vivid image of her denying any illness even though she has, per say, a bad fever. Kind of like how she was lying to Stacey and Leora about her injuries back in Voices Carry.. and most likely pushing herself too far to try to prove that she's not ill.

I feel like she rejects any kind of help due to being afraid of people getting close to her/ people perceiving her as weak and vulnerable, and only let's people she really trusts close. (Andrea, maybe. Jackie, eventually..)

I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!

I’d say you’re pretty close with your assessment. If she had, say, a light cold, she’d probably just keep her distance from people, wear a face mask, and insist that she’s fine as long as she thinks she’ll be relatively convincing in saying that. She probably thinks her presence in the site is more important than it is, and likes to keep an eye on things, besides.

If she’s sick sick, like the flu or something she can’t reasonably pass off as allergies or whatnot, she just holes up in her room and sweats it out in her bed. For one, she’s a bit of a homebody at heart, and feels safest in her room with the door locked. She’s also used to dealing with things alone, and often figures it’s best to just keep it to herself so she can’t get anyone sick - anyone I trusting in her room would make her uncomfortable on top of being sick, and she wouldn’t know how to take the help. To top it off, she doesn’t want to be seen as weak or needy, although this doesn’t actually work all that well. As she often shows up at Site-17 with injuries from Alpha-9 operations, most people around the site who aren’t familiar with the task force see her as a sick dog.

On that topic, it isn’t uncommon to se Iris wearing braces or bandages, though she isn’t usually directly in the fray like Adams. Her right eye, though, being a biological implant, often needs additional treatment, so she’ll occasionally walk around with an eye patch and/or those indoor sunglasses optometrists give you.

[lostsneeze]

The Garden of Weston House

The life of any photographer can take them strange places, but even moreso the life of one who works the occasional contract for a paranormal activity magazine. She had taken some fairly eerie assignments in her time, but this one to photograph the exterior (and, unofficially for a considerable bonus, interior) of the Weston House had particularly bad vibes that might’ve even discouraged her from taking the gig were she not a truly consummate professional who enjoyed her work more the stranger it got. There had never before been a time when she’d been sent into the ass-end of a rural nowhere in search of an urban legend, haunt, or ghost where the near majority of the people she asked about the location a) had heard of it, of course, it’s been out in those woods since my pappy’s time, b) sure, could say the way to get there or at least thereabouts, AND c) really don’t think it’s a good idea to go traipsin’ up there, lil’ miss. Everywhere she went people discussed the house with a tangible but mundane fear, as if she’d been asking for directions to the closest patch of quicksand. It was a strange attitude to have towards a mansion supposedly still inhabited by some of the most ornery ghosts of the US’ deep south, lacking in reverence if not respect.

For her part, the intrepid photographer proceeded along her journey more in dread of the locals than of any ghosts. While she knew her light skin and blond curls would ward away any of the absolute worst attitudes towards race the inhabitants of the south could infamously sometimes hold (with the right dress and makeup she could pull off a striking imitation of a model stereotypical 50s housewife), she’d reached her early 30s having learned most people picked up on her having mixed parentage one way or another pretty quickly. She was definitely…something, it just wasn’t clear exactly what, they’d think. And from traveling the States she was well aware that being perceived to be the wrong “something”, even by mistake, in the wrong neighborhood could mean serious trouble.

So she did not linger long even among the perfectly pleasant communities she stopped in along the way, and soon she had driven her only slightly beat-up and very dirty robin’s egg blue volkswagen to the end of a long dirt road in the woods that came to a run-down plantation house sitting in the middle of about a quarter-acre of brilliantly-colored flowers in full bloom.

It was an absolutely breathtaking sight, which might’ve stunned anyone into a pause of admiration and wonder, but as was noted, this photographer was a true professional. The first order of business was to turn around and park the car facing back down the road, just in case a quick departure was necessitated by anything both ornery AND corporeal inhabiting the supposedly abandoned house, such as a bear or axe-wielding vagrant. The next was to step out, in her flattering white top and jean shorts attractive to the attentions of otherwise tight-lipped locals but not so attractive as to be uncomfortable, and set up the tripod. She moved about, taking numerous pictures at different angles, slowly and deliberately, working to recapture that sense of astonishment when she’d first come on the strange and beautiful sight for the first time by trying to maintain the emotions for as long as possible.

By the end of this process, her nose had only started to itch pretty badly and run here and there. She’d taken her allergy medication that morning, but she didn’t have prescription-strength stuff and Ol’ Madame Weston’s legendary garden was an industrial-strength threat to her allergies. She pulled a fresh red and white polka-dot handkerchief from the car and stuffed it into her back pocket, grabbed her portable camera, steadied her breathing, and approached the property.

Walking on the overgrown dirt path through the garden felt like moving through a wonderland, despite the allergies. Snapdragons of what seemed like every color grew to her waist, while sunflowers towered over her. A rainbow of azaleas, chrysanthemums, daffodils, daisies, and plenty more grew wild all around the grassy ground, sharing the space without any apparent competition for light or water. Butterflies and bees lazily flew this way and that. She smiled with satisfaction as she snapped photo after photo; this part of the house’s legend would earn her commission by itself no matter how little of the rest of it turned out to be true. Plus, it was an incredible sight to see, even if walking through it did turn the back of her throat scratchy and set her eyes lightly stinging and start her little round nose’s broad nostrils flaring…

“Hhha’tshuuh!”

She did not have what anyone would call a feminine sneeze, and she squeezed her nose into her hands to prevent any more out of reflexive habit than of a genuine concern anyone might hear her. But there was in fact a startled rustling somewhere amidst the flowers, which made her jump and sent a small strand of snot flying off her face. Of course, she realized almost immediately it was probably just some rodent or other small animal, just as startled as she was and sent bounding away by the sudden noise.

After digging her handkerchief out of her pocket to blow and wipe her nose, she blinked away an itchy feeling growing in her eyes and continued her tour of the yard a little more hurriedly, approaching the front door in an eager prospect of getting inside and at least briefly away from the pollen-heavy air (though she wasn’t sure the inside would be much better, if it was as dusty as an abandoned haunted house should warrant).

The door was of course locked, but there was of course a spare key hidden nearby; a thorough search of the front porch revealed it cleverly tucked between the arm and seat of the old porch swing, the rusting chains of which had been forlornly creaking in the breeze through her entire visit so far. She gave a cursory knock and called out a forceful (if somewhat stuffy) “hello” before entering, just for the sake of some plausible deniability if she came across an ill-tempered host, and went inside.

Inside, the house was actually very unremarkable. The furnishings had largely been sold off by whatever former inhabitants were still sane, or stolen by other daring trespassers like herself, or turned into smoke, or whatever happens to the furniture of haunted houses in the rural countryside. There was enough dead plant debris scattered about to make her suspect a window must be open in the house somewhere, although she hadn’t seen one on the ground floor and didn’t feel any draft except from the front door that she’d left open (just in case). It was also certainly dusty, and there was an odor which the photographer couldn’t immediately place but was distinctly unpleasant and lit a tingly fire at the tip of her nose, and made her throat slightly constrict in protest.

As the sound of scurrying somewhere just out of view reached her ears, she realized what the smell was: cat. The house had probably become a home for at least one feral stray, which she would have to be careful of both for the sake of her dander allergies and to avoid needing the first aid kit in her car. She kept her ears alert as she moved throughout the house, treading carefully in an effort to avoid startling any more lurking animals.

However, the aggravating air of the house made it impossible for her to move with anything that could be considered stealth. Her nose had started constantly dripping, being equally overburdened in the musky, dusty air of the house’s interior as it was in the pollen-saturated exterior. She paused to sniff or wipe her nose after taking a picture more often than not,  frequently with a soft throat-clearing to try and quell the tickle that was growing in her throat. She was constantly blinking and breathing like a sneeze (or five) might be building, but she would quell the feeling by aggressively plowing a knuckle into the side of her nose and rubbing until the feeling became manageable. Despite being certain she wasn’t sharing the house with anyone else, she felt a distinct sensation of not only being watched but being leered at, and her cheeks flushed with misplaced embarrassment each time she snuffled or coughed particularly loudly or wetly, which was happening more and more frequently as she skulked through the house.

After finishing a cursory round of photographing all the empty and standard rooms of the ground floor, she blew her nose as quietly as she could manage, then a second time more quietly and less wetly, before moving with only a small amount of trepidation up the tall staircase to the second floor. Up here was the bedroom of Ol’ Madame Weston, where most of the sightings of hauntings had been reported. The air was stiflingly hot up here rather than merely unpleasantly warm, and she found herself starting to sweat from what she told herself was purely the heat, feeling silly that she was at all spooked by an old abandoned house in broad daylight. After briefing considering looking through the other rooms first, she decided there was little point in saving the main attraction for last and headed straight to the second door on the right after the landing where she knew the master bedroom to be. As she walked quickly to fling open the door with the enthusiasm of a child determined to prove to themselves they’re not afraid of anything in their closet, she vaguely noted that this door was the only one in the house fully closed.

Upon opening it, she was met with the sight of yet another room that appeared to be completely empty, until she blinked a single time and out of the corner of her vision (or maybe out of nowhere) there appeared one of the most luxurious-looking lounge chairs she’d ever seen, in which sat the hunched-over, hollow-eyed, partially see-through form of an absolutely menacing old woman in a long rumpled floral-patterned nightgown, with a wooly black cat sitting on her lap. The glare she gave the photographer was one that she was surprised to find she recognized; it was the look of someone who had immediately seen that she was…something, and something that was not welcome around here. 

In that moment of recognition, an unnaturally foul wind blew into the room from the open window behind this contemptuous visage and blasted the photographer full in the face. It was molten-hot, choking, and polluted, as if it had picked up all the filth of that room and had hurled it at her along with all the malice of that seated figure. In an instant the photographer felt the back of her throat become coated with pollen, her eyes caked over with dust, her nose plugged with cat hairs, and her soul stained by spite. She reeled backwards out of the room in shock, fright, and repulsion. As she did so she snapped a single picture with the camera still mostly held in the direction of the room (she was, after all, a professional) before turning and slamming into the hallway wall, placing one hand on it to steady herself as she stumblingly ran to the stairs. With one hand following the wall and then the railing, and the other gripping her camera like it was the only thing keeping her alive, she had no way of reaching her handkerchief and half-sneezed, half-choked freely, spraying her front as her nose flooded down her face and her burning eyes overflowed with tears.

“Ah-Huchh! Huhht’shuuh Ha’kshh Huh’kshh Huuhh’KSHH! Hhahk’shh! Haah-Utchh-shhh!

Half-blinded and barely able to keep her balance, she somehow made it down the house stairs and back out the front door without falling. However, she overreached for the railing of the porch, grabbing air where she’d hoped there’d be a support and sending herself careening forward down the porch stairs with all the momentum of her mad dash out of the house. As she tripped somewhere on the last few, she kept that one hand out in front of her while the other held out her camera tightly, ready to take the impact of the fall on her elbow and forearm if that’s what was needed to protect it. With one hand to brace her fall she was only barely scuffed from it, but she landed face-first into the massive flowerbed, and as the wind was knocked out of her she breathed in a massive whiff of their perfume followed by the irritating, vaguely phlegmy smell that accompanies a major allergic reaction.

Not wanting to slow her escape, the photographer crawled forward straight into the flowers as she scrambled to her feet, and continued her run through the garden in the vague direction of her car, sneezing thickly the whole way. “Ehh-Huchh! Huchh'shuh! Heeug’shuh!” Only when she no longer felt plantlife clinging to her calves did she slow to brush tears and snot from her face enough to see more clearly, knowing then that she was at the property line border. “Ahh-Huchh! Huhh’tschuuh!” Breathing heavily, she sprinted to her car and practically dove inside as she flung the door open. “Heeuh’tschuuh!” Then followed the natural priorities: lock the door, stow the camera safely in the glove compartment, start the engine, and finally splash the contents of her water bottle into her face.

After pulling out her messy handkerchief to hurriedly clear (or at least smear) her face free enough of tears to see, she stepped on the gas and began driving away from the house as fast as she dared. Even if she’d felt temptation to look back, her rapid tearful blinking and gasping as she strained to fight back her sneezing long enough to drive away would’ve prevented her from doing so. Only once she had struggled around a bend in the road did she dare pull over again and let her sneezing fit continue fully uninterrupted, hoping to get it all out of her system. Her handkerchief was already soaked to the point of uselessness, and in desperation as snot and tears poured down her chin she pulled her top up to her face to blow and wipe into, not realizing just how much pollen and dust was still clinging to it.

“Heeaug’shuhh! Ah-huchh! Huchh'tshuuh! Huchh'shuh Huh-huhhhHH’KSHH! Ehuhh…Huhh-etsch Ah’tschh-Ah’tschh-Ah’tschh-Ah’tschh Ahh’tschh Atshuuh! Hahhh…HAH’KSHH! Huh…uhh…Heeuh’tschuuh Heeuh’tshh Eeuhh-huchh Huhh’kshh Hahh-EH’Kshh Huhh’Kshuh! Eheh-heh…hehhhhh’tshuh! Ahh’Huchhshuh! Heeauh’TSHUUH!”

It went on like that, dying down at times but never truly stopping. The feeling of cat hairs tickling the tip of her nose simply refused to quite go away, as did the feeling of dust and pollen coating the inside of her throat and back of her sinuses, and all three pricking the undersides of her eyes. She rubbed viciously at the sides of her nose and beneath her eyes to try and drive out the itching without any noticeable impact whatsoever, and no matter how much she blew her nose into her top (or eventually her hands, wiping them on her shorts) it just clogged up full to bursting again in seconds.

Ultimately, she decided she wasn’t willing to wait here any longer. Even though she was already starting to misremember what she had seen in the Weston House (it was a trick of light, or a heat-induced hallucination, or some kind of side effect from her overstrained allergy medication, or some other rational explanation) the back of her mind was still screaming at her to get away from that place and not look back. She wouldn’t risk any further delay; the camera would have the final say about what she did or did not see in that room, and until she checked the film it was better safe than sorry. Still struggling to fight back her sneezes enough to keep her eyes at least half on the road, pollen clinging to her hair, clothes damp and sticky with snot and panic sweat, eyes bloodshot, and nose ruby-red and starting to chap, the photographer drove miserably away from the haunted Weston house and its luscious garden.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Tell me abt the angel and demon pls??? Or I guess about what they are and what they can do / how they differ from humans and each other. I wanna know the Lore the Worldbuilding the Nitty Gritty of their existence -- poorlittlekittycat

You really know the way to a writer's heart don't you. ;A; Thank you for asking!

It got wordy so you can skip through if you want. :'D And I put it under a cut.

Background/worldbuilding lore that's probably super boring:

I throw around a lot of words like heaven and hell but it's in the more vague mythology/lore type way than biblical. This isn't really specific to any religion, you could swap those words out with "good place" and "bad place" and it works the same.

So my premise is that the head honchos of heaven, hell and earth (or some equivalent) destroyed themselves trying to destroy each other, and now angels, demons, and humans are left without any guidance or structure and it's chaos as all the demons break out of hell and spread across the earth. Demons definitely have some powers but I haven't worked out what yet. I'm into them being very diverse in personality, abilities, appearance. My demon is kind of a blueish gray, comes from a cold part of hell, his skin is cool to the touch.

Meanwhile the angels go into lockdown and don't allow anyone in or out of heaven, protecting themselves and abandoning humanity. Eventually things calm down on some parts of earth and societies form etc etc, while other areas remain unsafe, war-torn, or destroyed.

Not all demons wanted to wreck shit, some just wanted freedom. My demon - his name is Erystos I finally decided! - is one of those. He won't be told what to do by anybody anymore and just wants to indulge in what the world has to offer. It starts out a little hedonistic but eventually turns toward simpler pleasures like food, nature, quiet. He becomes pretty chill. Still a demon and it shows at times but most days a very zen demon with a garden.

Erystos befriends and lives with a human named Jo. Jo is cranky, stubborn, slow to trust and quick to fight. She has also been separated from her friends and is often off searching for them. She had to form that tough shell to survive when deep down she's more scared than she'll ever admit. Over the years she learned that not all humans are good and not all demons are bad, but she hates angels at first. A lot of humans hate angels for their perceived betrayal.

Seraphina is 'young' for an angel, she hasn't ever been to earth, and heaven is more of a ~vibe~ than a place. There, angels don't take corporeal form. They see all and know all but in the way a computer might, where it doesn't understand the things it processes. Both ancient and wise but somehow naive, too.

When they go to earth they are assigned a human-like physical form. They can change their appearance if they want. At their full strength can take on any form and have powers that can hurt, capture, kill, control, heal, and more. Their powers are very heat and light based. Corporeal angels are warm to the touch and can be hard to look at.

The actual Story lol

Some humans start to develop tools and weapons that can subdue angels and poor Seraphina is the first ever captured. They figure out how to hurt her, do a lot of that, and then plan to use this newfound knowledge to use her as bait take down the rest of the angels.

Things don't go as they planned. Stuff happens that I'll write eventually. Seraphina ends up injured and alone on earth.

Enter Erystos and Jo, who take her in and patch her up not knowing she's an angel because Reasons. Right off the bat there's a lot of initial angst, tension and hostility, first from Seraphina being new to having a corporeal form and wary of both humans and demons. She especially doesn't trust demons and is terrified of Erystos. Then things get worse when they find out she's an angel. Jo hates angels, Seraphina hates demons, now Erystos is the one afraid of Seraphina. Seraphina is learning all the bad things about the world at once and is miserable and just wants to go home. Jo and Erystos keep helping her despite their better judgment, but their compassion pays off in the long run.

^ More stuff I'll write eventually.

The Important Part

In my mind it mostly centers around Seraphina and Erystos as they start out fearing and mistrusting each other, develop a tentative understanding, then a genuine bond. He shows her how to embrace earth life and is a grounding presence when she gets overwhelmed. She offers warm affection and companionship, earthly pleasures he was afraid to want.

Their life experiences are worlds apart. They can be literally dangerous to each other if powers were to get out of control. Everyone in the world wants to kill at least one of them. But they grow close in spite of it all and are also super horny for each other. Eventually they fall deeply in love.

^Lots happens within all that. More angsty whumpy gooey romance stuff I hope to write eventually

<3 If anyone actually read that you're my Hero.

[demonsandco]

I searched through your blog and I'm honestly so surprised you don't have more Simeon content. That being said, if you're still doing it, can I get the WHOLE smut alphabet for Simeon?

You’re right! It’s a shame cause he’s very much one of my favorites now that we get to see more of him in game! Normally I wouldn’t do the entire alphabet like this because it’s… a lot, but Simeon deserves it uwu. This is nearly 3000 words, which makes it my longest post yet by a long shot!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Simeon is such a sweetheart after sex. He’s not actually sleepy, but his limbs feel like jelly and he’s full of so many soft, loving emotions. All he wants to do is keep his partner close in his arms, slyly stealing kisses from their lips and whispering words of love in their ear. He’s not eager to get up or move at all, but he’s willing to have a bath or grab some water if they join him. Sex leaves him feeling rather emotional and vulnerable, and he really just wants to feel them near him and hear their voice.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Simeon’s favorite part of his body is his hands. He wears gloves often to protect them, leaving his skin feeling so soft and smooth. He’s a very hands on type of person, and he’s quite skilled with them, too. One of his favorite things to do during sex is run his hands up and down his partner’s sides, feeling their warmth under his palms.

In turn, Simeon loves every part of their body. If he had to pick just one part, though, it would be their eyes. He’s a firm believer in the saying that “eyes are the windows to the soul” and he could lose himself in their gaze. He’s fond of maintaining eye contact, watching their expression shift as they get close and memorising the different shades and tones that make up their eye color.

(Cont under the cut)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Simeon cums so much, both in quantity and frequency, but he hates the messiness of it. It feels good in the moment, but it gets cold and sticky way too quickly for his liking. He really likes to see his partner covered in his cum, as though he marked them as his in a way only the two of them would know about, but he’s always quick to help clean them up before it gets uncomfortable.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Simeon really doesn’t have anything that he would call a dirty secret. All the sexual experiences he’s had in the past have been quite tame and he’s very much not the type of person to feel ashamed about his past actions or keep them secret. He’s an open book when it comes to relationships and sex.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Contrary to popular belief, angels are allowed to have sex. As long as it doesn’t impact their duties, angels can do whatever they want with their private lives, and Simeon very much took advantage of that. He’s had quite a few partners in the past, especially before the war took place. His original rank as a Seraph gave him a lot of popularity among other angels. His experiences have taught him a lot about how to make his partner feel good in many different ways, but he never really had the chance to figure out what he enjoys. There’s a huge opportunity for them to experiment with his body and to teach him more than just the basics.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Simeon is really open to experimenting and trying out new positions, so he doesn’t have just one favorite. However, the positions he enjoys most are ones where he can see his partner’s face, especially if the position lets him pull them against his chest when he feels the need for closeness. He’s open to just about any position, though, even if it seems rather absurd at first.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simeon isn’t goofy enough to ruin the moment, but his playful nature definitely shines through. If he’s in bed with someone, that means he feels close to them emotionally, too, so he feels comfortable enough to not stay serious all the time. Sometimes things go wrong in the moment or something silly gets said out loud on accident. He doesn’t see anything wrong with laughing it off or jokingly teasing each other. He’s good at telling when the mood allows for some laughs and when some composure is necessary.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Being an angel, Simeon’s body is almost entirely hairless. Besides the hair on his head, the only other hair on him is a small patch above his cock and a very faint happy trail. He doesn’t enjoy the feel of shaving, but he does keep it very neatly trimmed at all times. Colour wise, it matches the hair on his head perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Simeon is quite romantic in the moment. Love and intimacy are very important aspects of sex to him, and that comes through in most of his actions. His pace, his preferred positions, everything reflects that intimacy that he craves. Through it all, he’s sweet talking to his partner, letting them know how good they make him feel, how important they are to him, and how much he loves them. He knows he might come across as too intense, but he wants to make sure they know that sex isn’t just about the physical aspect for him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Simeon rarely, if ever, feels the need to masturbate. Without a partner, sex really isn’t something he thinks about often, and if he does have a partner, he’d much rather take care of his need with them, rather than on his own. If he does end up jacking off, though, he always ends up fantasising about them, and he finds that he can’t actually cum without imagining them being there with him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Unsurprisingly, Simeon has a corruption kink. It came as a huge shock to him when he first realised it, but something about having his sweet little human tempt him and lead him down a path of “sin” excites him. It feeds into his rebellious nature that he constantly tries to control. It gives him a rush of adrenaline whenever they convince him to do something shameful or lewd and he finds himself enjoying it and even craving more instead of actually feeling shame.

As well, Simeon also has a massive praise kink. He always strives to please his partner as best as he can and getting positive reinforcement, something he rarely hears normally, sends shocks of pleasure shooting down his spine. The more praise he gets, the more eager he is to be good. If he’s being bratty, praising his good behavior in the past gets him to behave much quicker than a “punishment” would.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Simeon’s preferred location is either his or his partner’s room. It’s a place that feels safe and familiar, while also offering privacy. They can take as much time as they want and be as loud as they feel like without having to worry about anyone bursting in.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Getting Simeon turned on is pretty easy. All his partner needs to do is be direct with their advances. Their boldness excites him. He isn’t the type of person to get turned on by seemingly innocent actions, so their intent needs to be clear. That, alongside some suggestive touches, is more than enough to get him in the mood.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Simeon is usually open to trying anything once and there’s not a lot that he’s opposed to, but he is very serious with his boundaries. He refuses to allow sex with his partner to start impacting his day to day life. Skipping classes, missing meetings, or even risking being late to something, even if it’s not important, in favor of sex is a big no for him. He makes his boundaries very clear from the start, and will quickly become harsh if his partner doesn’t respect them.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Simeon has almost no experience in oral, giving or receiving, but it quickly becomes one of his favorite things. He could spend hours between his partner’s thighs without getting bored. While he’s rather hesitant and unsure at first, he’s very skilled at reading their reactions and starts adjusting his technique to make them feel as good as possible.

He doesn’t enjoy receiving quite as much, but he still loves it! It’s so easy for his partner to make him cum or overstimulate him with just their mouth. The warm wetness of their mouth feels divine and their breath is so hot against his skin, he can’t help but cum embarrassingly quickly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Simeon greatly enjoys taking his time with his partner, keeping a slow and sensual pace and exploring every inch of their body with his mouth and hands. He’s not a fan of rushing, even as he gets closer to his peak, he keeps his pace steady, his body molding against theirs. He’s not opposed to going faster if they prefer that, but his favorite pace will always be slow and intimate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Simeon is not a fan of quickies. He’ll be open to trying it at least once, but he knows from the start that it’s not his cup of tea. The whole thing just feels so rushed and impersonal to him. The most important part of sex to him is the intimacy and emotional connections, and quickies feel very lacking in comparison. If anything, they leave him craving his partner even more than before.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Simeon is very open to experimenting and he’s always excited to learn and experience new things. He’s willing to try anything once, even if it’s something that he’s pretty sure he won’t enjoy. The idea of taking risks also interests him, but it needs to only be a perceived risk for him to participate. Something like messing around in an empty classroom at RAD is exciting, but it needs to be afterhours when the school is empty and the door has to be locked for him to feel comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Simeon’s stamina is not the best, at least at first. He can go for more rounds than the average human just because he’s an angel, but he’s so unbelievably sensitive that the rounds themselves are rather short. It’s been so long since he’s had anyone touch him sexually that he ended up cumming in his pants the first time he was with his partner. With time, his stamina will improve drastically, probably to the point where he could easily outlast them, but he needs some practice to get there.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys aren’t something Simeon has ever really thought about using or has ever owned. When he sees the huge variety of toys that exist, he feels excited to try them out, mostly relying on his partner’s preferences and recommendations to pick some. He quickly learns that he really enjoys having them use different toys on him and, in turn, he loves the new opportunities the toys give him when it comes to pleasuring them in return. The possessive, prideful part of him that is usually buried very much prefers making his partner feel good on his own, without toys to help, but most of the time, he doesn’t mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The first time he teases his partner, it’s entirely accidental, his habit of going slow and taking his time exploring their body ends up making him tease them. Once he sees the way it makes them feel, though, he starts doing it on purpose, wanting to see more of their reactions. He’ll relent, with a smug little smile on his face, if they start begging, but until then, he plays the innocent card, pretending not to realise what he’s doing.

As much as he likes to dish it out, Simeon really can’t take much teasing. He’s so sensitive and desperate that he’ll start begging immediately, willing to do anything just to feel more of their touch.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Simeon is naturally very loud and he lets out the prettiest sounds. At first, he tries to muffle them and keep his volume down. He talks quite a bit, at least while he’s still able to form coherent thoughts, and loves to whisper sweet things to his partner in a breathy tone. The closer he gets to cumming, the more his words devolve into delicate gasps and high pitched moans. When he cums, he lets out the longest, breathiest whine that no amount of gritting his teeth or covering his mouth could smother. He’s very vocal throughout, and without some sort of soundproofing, his voice can very much be heard through the walls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Simeon has a hard time controlling his wings during sex. He can’t focus hard enough to keep them hidden and they tend to have a mind of their own, fluttering and puffing up depending on how he feels. They’re quite sensitive in the moment too, especially at the base. In the end, he finds himself wrapping his wings around his partner as he pulls them close, keeping them warm and safe under his feathers. Unfortunately, this usually means that the bed is covered in feathers from all his flapping and wiggling.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Simeon has such a pretty cock, so perfectly smooth that it almost looks like a drawing rather than an actual dick. He’s large enough to be impressive without seeming intimidating, with just enough girth to feel like a stretch, but not be painful. It’ll still take some prep for his partner to take him, but it won’t be too difficult with some patience and plenty of lube.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Simeon’s libido isn’t very high at all, and sex isn’t something that’s on his mind constantly. What matters to him most is spending quality time with his partner, regardless of what they’re doing together. They usually need to be the one to actually initiate things, since he has no qualms with pushing down his need to avoid ruining the moment. With how much he values physical touch, it’s not hard for cuddles to become something more, and as long as there’s time for it, Simeon will never say no.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex doesn’t exactly leave him feeling sleepy, but it does make him feel extraordinarily relaxed. He tends to follow his partner’s lead, staying awake longer if they don’t plan to sleep right away. With how warm and soft he feels, though, he has no trouble falling asleep quickly, cuddling them close to his chest to absorb more of their body heat. If it’s up to him, he prefers to share some casual pillow talk together, before falling asleep soon after. If he can avoid having to get up and be functional, he will.

[hes-writer]

Confessions: A ‘Favourite’ Extra

Summary: beatrice graduates and dad!harry is not invited

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 3305 words

A/N: this is part of the ‘Favourite’ universe :D this scene takes place sometime between the first and second part! please read them before reading this.

Part One | Part Two

_____

Graduation.

Through Beatrice’s 18-years of living, she did not think that the celebration of liberation would be so sour. The day started off like any normal day. That is, except, she did not have to deliberately avoid the areas of the house that her dad, Harry, was in. It was strange that she had to feel uncomfortable in her own home.

For this special event, Beatrice had initially bought only three tickets for Ruby, Caleb and her mum, Y/N. Her dad had a packed schedule of promoting his newest album anyway so Beatrice thought that it wouldn’t even matter. She didn’t think he would want to come anyway. If Beatrice knew anything about her father is that he never really cared much about what went on in her life.

Beatrice supposes that it was okay. She had a whole lifetime to get used to it. A full lifestyle living on the edge because she didn’t know when her dad would clap-back with an insult for no reason. However, it didn’t mean that the spike in pain hurt any less. Don’t get her wrong; she was grateful for Y/N being around and involved. But Beatrice sometimes wondered how it would feel like to be wrapped in a fatherly embrace or be guided with wisdom and courage.

She really couldn’t remember the last time Harry did anything that made Beatrice feel like his daughter. Aside from the family photos they took on during the holidays or when celebrating whatever work achievement he managed to snag--that was the only time where Beatrice would feel Harry’s hand resting on her shoulder.

___

“Can I get one?” Ruby asked, tugging on the coloured strings of Beatrice’s cap. Her small body was being held by her older sister while Y/N took photos of the three siblings.

“Caleb, put your phone away please,” Y/N requested, shaking her head at the way the young boy groaned. Nonetheless, he followed the instruction.

"You’re lucky I love you or I would not have shown up,” Caleb grumbled, offering a sweet smile afterwards to suggest that he was joking. The three siblings posed for the camera, Beatrice trying hard not to let Ruby tilt her square cap.

Between a plastered smile, Beatrice replied, “Probably why dad isn’t here,”

Caleb widened his eyes significantly. Though, it seemed conspicuous to Y/N who was busy figuring out how to brighten the screen.

“That’s not true, sissy. He’s just busy,”

Beatrice chuckled, shrugging off the comforting hand of her younger brother, “Always busy but never when one of you have something going on,”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Caleb frowned at her response, focusing her attention on Ruby’s babbles. He almost spilled the surprise that their dad was going to watch Beatrice cross the stage. Caleb knew how his sisters felt about Harry and he hoped that his appearance would help patch things up between them.

Caleb walked over to Y/N, “Are you sure that Dad’s coming?”

Y/N nodded, “Yes, he said he’s looking for parking now,”

Caleb bit his lip nervously, “Do you think she’ll be surprised?”

——

“Graduate with honours, Beatrice Y/LN,”

Applause filled the venue as Beatrice walked up the steep steps of the stage. A shy smile was placed on her lips when she caught sight of the projector screen showcasing her achievements for her senior year.

In the audience, both Harry and Y/N were confused as to why Beatrice used her mother's name to be announced. The cinch in Y/N’s brow smoothed out when the principal continued speaking. Harry, however, couldn’t help the questioning frown.

“Top Chemistry. Top Biology. Overall Best Science Student. Gold Volunteer Badge. Level 4 Music Theory. Beatrice has been excelling both academically and musically while serving the community,”

Beatrice squinted at the bright lights, placing her diploma and speech on the podium. She had never been good at public speaking. However, her announced name gave Beatrice newfound confidence. It’s just her. All her achievements wouldn’t be credited to her father just because he was Harry Styles.

“Hi, uh,” She cleared her throat, “I’m Beatrice Y/LN and I’m very honoured to be standing in front of you today,”

Her speech was short and to the point; thanking her fellow classmates even though there were very few to thank personally. There were a few jokes in between and some nostalgic memories about various school events throughout the year. Beatrice mentioned remarks to her teachers who helped her achieve high grades. Lastly, she thanked her family for supporting  her

“I’d like to thank my family. My brother, Caleb. My sister, Ruby and my Mum. You guys have been so wonderful to me and I hope that I made you proud,”

Y/N was tearing up with a hand clasped over her mouth. She could not believe that her oldest daughter was off to university in a few weeks. Beatrice’s work ethic was unmatched and it showed in her getting the recognition that she deserved.

There was a pregnant pause before applause filled the space again. Despite switching her name last minute, everyone in her school knew that Beatrice was a Styles kid. They were probably waiting for her to mention him in her speech. But Beatrice felt no need to mention the man that had done nothing for her. He wasn’t even here.

“Thank you and congratulations, everyone!”

Harry slumped lower in his seat. He could feel Y/N’s worried eyes and Caleb’s observant gaze inspecting his face.

____

Beatrice stood beside her family, watching Harry a few metres away who was currently busy attending to the fans that recognized him. Even with his graying hair, many parents greeted him with a reminiscing statement about how they ‘saw him in concert back in the day’, to which he would chuckle at and proceed to converse for a few minutes until their child--Beatrice’s age--tugged them away.

All that Beatrice wanted to do was to get home and interact with her online friends. She had mentioned that she was graduating today and they were all very proud of her. Beatrice would rather take the peace and quiet of her own room than a bustling party.

“You’re invited,” Emma, a popular girl, stated while handing her a piece of paper with all the details of the party. Beatrice mumbled a hushed ‘thanks’, despite knowing that she wouldn’t even attend it in the first place.

“Are you going, Tris?” Y/N asked, holding Ruby’s hand so the youngest child would not get lost in the crowd.

Beatrice shook her head ‘no’, explaining that there was no point.

“I don’t know anyone there anyway,”

She was kind of a loner, but Beatrice was happier by herself anyways. “Besides, I don’t think dad will agree. It’s way past curfew,”

Y/N nodded in understanding. The curfew set for their eldest child was at nine in the evening. Y/N was sure that Harry would be lenient to let Beatrice go; it was her graduation after all. Sooner or later, Beatrice would be leaving for university.

____

Beatrice should be grateful. She should be happy, yet somehow those emotions were non-existent to her brain right now. She should be smiling, eyes brimming with tears because her dad actually cared to throw a party for her. But all she could feel right now was a pure disappointment and agonizing anger because Beatrice knows that he was trying to make up for years of mistreatment.

At this moment, the rowdiness of the party only proved that Harry really did not know anything about Beatrice. She did not know over half the people here, aside from the few relatives they see during the holidays; her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. The rest were recognizable from Harry’s industry. Beatrice swore she saw Lizzo sipping a cup of liquor in their kitchen.

Aside from the initial greeting of ‘congratulations’, paired with the large banister taped on the foyer of the house, this party wasn’t much of a celebration based on Beatrice’s milestone in life. If anything, it looked like a regular get together for celebrities and industry people. Frankly, she had no interest in interacting with them. As rude as it may sound, the swirling turmoil of emotions beginning from her stomach made Beatrice push past the packed crowd with a tight-lipped smile in order to get to her room.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, especially knowing that these people in her house absolutely adored Harry. They saw him as a family man, loved and appreciated by his kids. It wasn’t a complete lie, per se. Beatrice just didn’t have much experience to confirm that he was, in fact, a lovable and caring person.

If she had to put a finger on it, Beatrice was feeling utter disgust. She was disgusted because Harry was the perfect person in their eyes when everything he had shown her was that she was someone that didn’t deserve any of his attention. It felt like this was a celebration of her dad’s façade--he was not actually proud of her. He was just making it seem like he is so he wouldn’t be perceived as the dead-beat dad.

A knock at her door sounded. It was almost as if Beatrice could sense her dad’s presence without turning around to look at who just entered the privacy of her room.

“Tris?” Harry whispered, hesitating on mumbling the nickname. He had never done it willingly before, much less not as bitter as the previous times.

Beatrice swore that she could practically see the venom slithering on his tongue every time he said her name. But maybe that was just her skewed perception.

The chair that she was sitting on creaked as she shifted her weight, leaning her elbows on her desk.

“Why did you even throw a party, dad?”

It was merely a genuine question that held so many underlying meanings. Why now? Why not earlier when there was still hope to fix whatever sort of broken and fucked up relationship they had with each other?

Harry fully stepped into the room, observing the walls decorated with art and artists whom he recognized were his friends. He didn’t realize that she was a fan of Florence Pugh.

He cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, “I wanted to celebrate your graduation,”

Beatrice internally rolled her eyes, “Did you really? Because you haven’t been there when I needed your help with my homework or assignments or anything. Now,  suddenly you want to act like you were a big part of how I achieved my accomplishments?”

It was a sour realization. It was accurate that Harry refused to help her with schoolwork. He swore that he was busy looking over new options for his upcoming projects. Retrospectively, he might have subconsciously spewed out excuses so that he wouldn’t be able to help his dear daughter.

Beatrice sighed, flattening the balls of her palms against the edge of the sleek wood, pushing the rolling wheels of the chair back. She stood up.

“Just admit it. You threw the party because you felt guilty and you think that somehow, everything will magically be okay between us?” Beatrice shot him a questioning look, chest-puffing when Harry’s lack of words confirmed her theory.

Beatrice propped her feet in the middle of her room, twisting her body so that her back was facing away from the closed-door; from him. She breathed heavily through her nose, lungs rising up and down as she gathered her thoughts.

Unbelievable.

Harry stood with his arms by his sides, staring at his daughter with curious compassion. He did not know what to say, nor did he know how to act because he didn’t take the time to get to know her. He didn’t spend time with Beatrice; nurturing, caring, calming or comforting her because he simply couldn't get over the fact that she was once a person that caused calamity in his life.

“Tris,” Her dad spoke, earning a pinch of her facial expression from the familiarity of the nickname. Yet, it was unfamiliar because Harry used it mundanely.

Beatrice cut him off, “I’ll be leaving for university in a few weeks. You can quit pretending like you care. You say this graduation party is for me but I don’t even know most of the people here!”

The volume of her voice reached a threshold that should warn both of them to keep quiet. However, Beatrice knew that with the hustle and bustle of the celebration going on downstairs—no one would hear her honesty except for her and Harry.

Harry blinked twice, mouth dropping slightly agape. Why did he throw this party? He knew his intentions; he was proud of his daughter. He wanted to show her off to everyone he knew about how intelligent and well-rounded Beatrice was.

The girl continued speaking as if reading Harry’s train of thought.

“This is for you,” She spoke bitterly as if her tongue was left with an odd taste in her mouth. “Showing off a ‘trophy’ daughter who graduated with honours but that doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing I ever do will match what you’ve done.”

The accompanying laugh—albeit, sarcastic— left Harry confused.

“What? No, this is for you. I’m proud of you,” Harry quickly disagreed with Beatrice, gesturing his large hands in a wave to emphasize his words.

She turned around with gentle disbelief; her features were hardened yet Beatrice’s eyes gleamed with hope. She wanted so badly to believe her dad, but his lack of attentiveness to her led Beatrice to roll her eyes at him instead.

“Cut the crap, Dad,”

“Language,” Harry added, pursing his lips when Beatrice scoffed.

“I can’t believe this,” Beatrice muttered, she stared at the ground as if picking out the words to say.

As bad as it sounded, she wanted to hurt her dad the way he did to her. Years of being treated like an unwanted child slowly built up inside of her and Beatrice wanted the pain to end.

“You wanted to be everything so bad that you forgot to be my Dad,”

“I am your dad, Tris,” Harry watched as she walked over to her desk. Fingers cascading the glass picture frame which held a still of their family.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Beatrice turned around, throwing the edged frame on her bed in a fit of anger.

Harry’s brows shot up to his forehead, watching his daughter’s eyes well up with tears.

“You are my dad but you’ve never been one to me! Why is that? Huh?” Beatrice pressed, crossing her arms and digging her fingernails on the skin of her bicep.

“I’m sorry that I took those opportunities away from you. You got movie deals, You had an album coming out. Tours, shows, money—you had everything and I ruined it, didn’t I? As you said, it would’ve been better if I wasn’t born,”

Harry was no stranger to not interrupting someone when they spoke. However, he couldn’t let Beatrice believe the words she spoke.

“Don’t say that! That’s not true,” He stuttered over his words, heart-shattering under the weight of Beatrice’s truthfulness. Sure, he had everything, but it didn’t mean that he was satisfied.

“But you thought about it right? You wondered how different it would be if I wasn’t born at the wrong time. Maybe you would’ve loved me more—like you do Caleb and Ruby,” Beatrice smiled sadly.

She was glad that at least her siblings would not have to experience the searing pain of being unappreciated. They did not deserve to be seen through like a ghost.

“Maybe you would’ve paid more attention to me. Maybe you would have cared that I was hurting every time you showed me nothing but disdain,”

Beatrice used her forearm to wipe away the tears beginning to soak her reddened cheeks. She sighed, plopping down at the foot of her bed, watching Harry look at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

“You know, It’s not my responsibility to ask why,” Beatrice whispered. Though, she wondered what would have happened if she did question her dad why he looked at her as if she was a burden in his life.

Beatrice’s monologue crescendoed as utter pain cracked her voice every now and then. Her figure slouching as she truly experienced what it was like to let go of the turmoiled affliction soaring through her body.

“I’m your child! You’re the one who’s supposed to be looking out for me. You’re the one who’s supposed to show me what love is supposed to feel like. I’ve always wondered how you’d react if I came home with a boyfriend like all the movies and books talk about. But, all you’ve shown and made me feel was my first heartbreak when you’re supposed to be the one nursing me from it,”

At that point, Harry could not remain the eye contact he shared with his daughter, gazing down at the floorboard in shame.

“You were supposed to scare guys off because I’m your eldest daughter. You’re supposed to protect me from everything that could hurt me, even when it’s irrational because that is what Dads do,”

That same bitter laugh that pierced Harry’s ears earlier echoed again.

“But I guess you never really wanted to become one to begin with. Or maybe just not with me.”

Harry took a few steps back. Her words figuratively churned and twisted his gut. He caught his balance on the doorknob that moved feverishly under his weight. Sure, he didn’t want to be her dad at first. And he had many chances to fix a strained relationship, but he never took them. So really, he had no shield at denying the truth. He was simply a father who failed to be the dad to Beatrice.

“I-I do! I want to be--if you'd let me,” He hated the way his voice became weary.

Despite their differences, Beatrice and Harry both mutually hated the way his tone pinched. The way he had to plead and beg for his daughter’s forgiveness when it seemed to be too late. This could have been avoided if Harry took the chance to become the dad that Beatrice deserved to have. The dad that her siblings--Caleb and Ruby--saw and spent time with while Beatrice watched behind, wondering why she was never treated the way they did.

“For years, I wondered what was wrong with me. I listened to the music that you liked. I asked mum what you enjoyed doing because you never talk to me. I wanted you to see me as a daughter instead of this--this invisible speck that you shrug off your shoulder every time I needed you!” Beatrice cried out, hugging herself for comfort.

The worst part was that she could see Harry’s legs buckle in hesitation to come closer to her or not. He shouldn’t even have to think to comfort his daughter, but he did.

“I wanted you to like me as if I even have to do that in the first place! You’re my dad, don’t you get it? Because I didn’t. I spent so much time being the perfect child in hopes of you giving me an ounce of your attention aside from the face you put on when I walked into the room. Why did you have to treat me this way, huh?”

Tears spilled from her forest-green eyes, identical to Harry’s glazed ones. His mouth parted in retaliation. As if he was plopped in quicksand, Harry had no idea how to defend himself.

“I know that you didn’t want me in the first place but--,” Beatrice sniffled, wiping the salty liquid to her damp temples, “I just wished you treated me like I wasn’t a burden to you,”

_____

[in-tua-deep]

Ok I totally want to hear more about this survivors au/Delores is real! How do the siblings handle having this different version of Five? Five may be better adjusted but he still has to heard his family around like a bunch of stray cats. What happens when Hazel and Cha Cha show up? How do they find out that Vanya causes the apocalypse and how does Five handle that revelation?!

here is the thing, i think the survivors au has the potential to be HILARIOUS

no one knows how to handle a well-adjusted five, and this absolutely includes the commission

So you mentioned Hazel and Cha-Cha?? Five in this au was not nearly as absolutely feral as he is in the show bc he knows how to interact with people - he was raised by a competent adult and a weird best friend and they occasionally saw other survivors as well

please picture old Five hanging around the water cooler and chatting with Hazel

the other funny thing is that Five is competent passing - he is well adjusted emotionally but functionally?? Hazel is out there complaining about dental being cut and office parties and budgets and Five is there sipping his drink having never filed taxes in his life. Five doesn't know what the fuck a dental plan is, he was a child soldier and then lived in an apocalypse.

So please picture for me Hazel being like "okay I know corporate wants us to keep what we're being paid to ourselves but fuck that, workers unite, what do you get paid as a legend old timer?"

and five is like "you're getting paid? i get to not get tossed back into the apocalypse, I think"

"but what about expense forms? what about medical care?"

"I'm like 80% sure i'm being experimented on, actually." Five says nonchalantly, "Don't get me wrong, my idea of medical care is fucked by being a child soldier but I'm pretty sure regular people don't have electrodes attached to their heads every time they get a checkup. Could be wrong though! My ex-dad used to monitor my brainwaves while I slept so like, my idea of appropriate shit is fucked, you know?"

This is a Five who was raised by Rick, he is polite to his coworkers. If Dot asked him if he wanted to grab lunch, Five would have gone and grabbed lunch with her or politely said that he couldn't.

Cha Cha only ever talks to Five when she wants to talk shop, so they've had a couple of conversations about weapons but not much else tbh, Hazel just tends to be more personable

So when they're sent after Five, Hazel is much more hesitant to kill who he perceives as a "work friend" and also is definitely thinking about all the times Five casually revealed a way the commission was being highkey shady about him, such as the potential experimentation, no pay, working under duress etc. He's much more easily turned against the commission because he's even more primed to say "fuck the commission" than he is in canon

Hazel out here like "how did Five break his contract when Five wasn't even being paid? I kind of want to read it."

Hazel out here like "I would unionize if I didn't think the commission was anti-union enough to send literal assassins after me if I suggested it :/"

meanwhile with the siblings

Five just. talks over them a lot and makes so much sense that it's actually really hard to argue with him, and he's weirdly considerate of his family's obligations

Like Diego is like "i have to go see Patch" then Five is like "that's great I'm proud of you buddy, it would actually be really handy to have some law enforcement read into the situation if you think she's up to the task. that goes for everyone by the way! If y'all have people you trust, more bodies would be super helpful I think"

the entire family, collectively, who have like zero trusted social links: uhhhhhhhh

Diego, with this weird permission, probably?? Does? Awkwardly attempt to read Patch into the situation? Patch is, obviously, like "what the fuck, Diego" but probably goes with him to the mansion (????????) because she's concerned and then meets his fucking whacko family with their superpowers and suddenly everything is 100% more realistic

Five is just like "yes hello I'm aware I look like a child, i'm actually in my late 50s or early 60s (apocalypse time amiright) because of time travel stuff. Yes I am Five Hargreeves who went missing in like 2002 or whatever. anyway it's lovely to meet you, i'm so glad diego has someone he trusts, and considering my sibling's shifty looks when i told them to invite anyone they trusted this genuinely makes me concerned that Diego is the most socially well-adjusted of them."

"That cannot be possible." Patch says, like someone who has met Diego Hargreeves.

"You haven't met the rest." Five says sympathetically, "In our defense we were raised in isolation as child soldiers."

"That... explains so much." Is all Patch can say to that, "But you seem..."

"I'm adopted." Five waves away.

"We're ALL adopted." Diego grits out, very aggrieved by this and also not sure if he likes the fact that Patch seems friendly with Five, or at least is listening to him?

"I'm double adopted."

However! With the recruitment of Patch, herding Diego becomes like 90% easier.

Honestly the worst to herd are probably Luther and Allison? Luther because he's Number One and resents Five taking charge and also resents Five's casual dismissal of Reginald and also suspects that Five (or at least the commission) has something to do with Reginald's death?

Allison because she is torn between following Luther and helping him and helping Five but also calling Patrick and Claire at every possible moment while ALSO trying to repair her relationship with Vanya. She's flighty - she'd bail on a Five-apocalypse-assignment if Vanya mentioned being hungry or if Luther called or anything like that

Vanya likes to be included and, if asked, would probably drop as many current obligations as she can. Like she would probably cancel her teaching if Five genuinely and sincerely asked her for her help, which he does because he's 100% sure Dolores would manifest in front of him and smack him if he dared even imply someone without powers wouldn't be helpful

Vanya is like "I'm not sure if i'll be helpful - I don't have powers ):" and Patch is like "wtf are you talking about - my superpowers are Gun, Backup, and Reading Comprehension and i am like the most useful member of this team right now"

Vanya gets a confidence boost just from hanging out with Patch honestly, I think they should be friends

Klaus is thrilled to be included are you kidding?? He says he does it for money but he's just happy to be there and also as one of the most emotionally intelligent siblings he is mildly concerned about the fact that Five looks like he's about to cry and also emotes

Five also gives Klaus positive reinforcement, hugs, and Five absolutely weaponizes the I'm not mad, but I believe that you can do better and I'm going to give you more chances because I love you and fully believe that next time you'll be amazing way that Rick used on him.

I feel like Five ends up saying something along the lines of "I understand that x is really important, and we're definitely going to look into it. Is it something that needs to be addressed right now, or is it something that can wait until after April 1st? If it can wait, I can write it down here on this list so we don't forget. If it can't wait then we can figure out a time to address it and help you" a lot

Like Grace malfunctioning and potentially killing Reginald?

"We don't have to make this decision right now." Five says patiently, "Because Grace is a robot, we have some options. Living with a robot who is potentially malfunctioning and homicidal is dangerous, but Luther saying that means admitting that Reginald might have made a mistake or error with Grace's programming or upkeep. I haven't been here for a long time, but I remember Reginald being very precise. Regardless, this isn't a choice between permanently shutting her off or not. We can shut her down temporarily until we can fully address the issue. We can ask and see if there is a 'system reboot' option or some sort of system check that Grace can undergo. We can try find and hire an expert to take a look at her programming to find the issue."

Five gives this speech while like, organizing the weaponry in the house on a table very nonchalantly

Five out here making buzzer noises at his siblings arguments like "yeah no that's a false dichotomy and a strawman's argument, want to try again?"

(Look apocalypse nights were long and they had games that were literally about arguing pointless shit like ranking types of chairs or the best way to break out of a prison without powers and things could get heated)

"Who died and made you boss?" Luther demands.

"Uh, the world? Were you not listening?" Five asks, looking very purposefully confused.

It gets even MORE delightful when Five reads Rick into the situation because a) he promised and b) his siblings really have like, no connections jeeze

Rick fully believes that this is his son from the future, like Five introduced himself, but Five skipped out on a few key details. Such as being adopted.

So Rick spends a solid chunk of time just staring at Five, who looks basically nothing like him, trying to think like, who is his mother ???? if we save the world will Five stop existing? why would I name my child 'Five'? Does everyone have powers in the future? was there like... a radioactive apocalypse? would radiation give future humans superpowers? when did my life turn into a comic book? am i even allowed to ask these questions? will knowledge of the future fuck things up?

and then when Five comes back and is like "what is up everyone this is my dad Rick who will be joining us, he doesn't have any memories of me thanks to time travel but if anyone is mean to him i WILL kneecap them"

"Your DAD?"

Five does kidney punch Klaus for saying that Rick is a DILF but otherwise everyone just is like, warily looking at this Normal Dad Man in confusion because?? This is the dude who raised Five, who they watched take out like an entire commission team by himself yesterday? He looks so. Normal.

Rick is very confused and like, wonders if he's supposed to be the team mascot? But Five keeps involving him and asking his opinion and in return Rick enforces snack breaks and makes everyone sandwiches and has gentle talks with everyone

Every time Five notices someone about to blow he just lovingly makes sure that that person is alone in a room with Rick

Luther ends up crying on the sofa with Rick gently patting his back as Rick calmly states that Luther seems like he's put a lot of time and effort into his family and making his father proud and that since Reginald isn't here to say it, Rick will have to be the one to say that he's proud and that they've been dropped into a difficult and stressful situation - so soon after Reginald's death when they're still grieving! - and he's doing so well

Luther, experiencing unconditional positive paternal regard for the first time in his life: i don't know why i'm crying so much

honestly this is just a comedy of juggling the gang, having impromptu therapy sessions and discussions, investigating the apocalypse and the eye, leonard trying to meet vanya continuously and failing because she's constantly surrounding by family or rick/patch, the commission trying their best to bust up the dream team/isolate Vanya/kill or remove Five, while Hazel lives out his romcom dreams with Agnes and also says "fuck the commission"

[gainerstories]

Professor Plump

*UNLOCKED*

As a big fat thank you to everyone who has supported this blog and enjoyed my stories, I am unlocking one of my favorite stories off Patreon. This has been a rough year for everyone and y’all enjoy a little treat. Of course, if you want more (20+ more fattening stories in fact) you know where to go. Enjoy. 

As much as Robert Daniels loved being a professor, he woke up full of dread on the first day of fall semester. At 28 he was the youngest tenure track faculty in his department and he often felt that all eyes were on him. His first academic year had been rough, exhausting, and tiresome and he wasn’t ready to get back in the game. He just wanted his beautifully sunny and lazy summer vacation to last one or two more months.

As he sat up in bed his belly spilled forward pushing down his morning wood. There was no doubt he’d gained quite a bit of pudge in the last few months. It didn’t bother him, however, as most of his colleagues were plump and he viewed extra weight as a sign of contentment and maturity. During the school year he had actually lost weight from stress and being overworked. His new, rounder form lent a sense of satisfaction.

As Robert stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to shower he took a close look at himself. He’d be turning 29 soon and was finally starting to look like a man. His face had grown scruffy and his chest hair finally bloomed across his pecs and down to his puffy stomach. The thirty pounds of fat that clung to his belly also gave him a more mature look. He was now firmly within “dad bod” territory and wore that badge with pride. He scooped his fat up with both his hands and gave it a hearty jiggle. He wondered if anyone on campus would comment on his somewhat weight gain.

Turning around, Robert examined his rear which was now fluffy and dimpled with cellulite. He noticed that even his ass had grown a bit hairier along with a small patch of fuzz on his lower back, framed between two bulging love handles. He could recall seeing the same patch on his father and wondering if the same was in store for himself. This memory cemented his perceived transition into manhood.

Robert’s thighs had also thickened up a bit and now touched when he was standing straight. He rubbed his thighs and gave them a slap, admiring how they bounced. Lately, he had no choice but to manspread when he sat down. Crossing his legs was a thing of the past. The added weight on his lower half gave him a sense of groundedness. All around the extra pudge made him feel strong and unshakable, despite jiggling quite a lot when he actually did shake.

Most of this excess poundage had been accrued during a month long cruise down Central America. Robert had spent almost every single day getting tipsy on fruity blended drinks and satisfying his drunchies from dusk ‘til dawn at the buffet. Carbs became his best friend, soaking up the sugary alcoholic concoctions he guzzled during the day. Altogether, cruise life was a much needed respite from the long nights of grading papers and doing research during the academic year.

His salary did not allow him to indulge in fancy foods very often, and so this cruise was an opportunity to go hog wild. He made a conscious decision to eat and live like a king. As a result, he began to notice his body expanding only midway through the trip. It seemed as though out of nowhere he had grown a squishy paunch that jutted out behind his shirts. By the end of the vacation he was even larger, noticing fat accumulating all over his body.

As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, Robert found himself particularly fascinated by the small white stretch marks that had formed at the top of his inner thighs. He traced his fingers over their subtle indentations. He hadn’t seen fresh stretch marks since puberty when his shoulders expanded overnight one summer. He was shocked to see the same thing happen simply from overeating on a long vacation.

Plump, tan, and satisfied, Robert stepped into the shower with vigor and began to get ready for his first day back to work. He trimmed his wild scruff back to a presentable shadow and styled his hair. He then slipped into underwear that clung more than usual to his meaty rump and resultantly compressed his bulge more than usual. He would have to remember to buy some new pairs. T-shirts had also grown a bit snug but this was not a huge concern for they would be hidden behind a button up. What he hadn’t considered was that his button ups from last year would also struggle to fit around his new body.

Robert sucked in his gut while doing each button. He let his stomach spill forward and was shocked at just how much the shirt did not fit. Scrambling through his closet he found the loosest button up he owned and put it on. It was still snug and would definitely be strained when he sat down, but it would have to suffice. Next, he slid into his stretchiest pair of chinos and was instantly filled with anxiety.

The fabric clung to his thighs and ass leaving little to the imagination. This would have been tolerable except for the fact that the waistband would not button no matter how hard he tried. With no other option, Robert scrounged a safety pin from the utility drawer and fastened the pants closed. Donning one of his bulkier belts he hoped no one would notice he’d outgrown his pants.

His day commenced with a faculty meeting catered with coffee and pastries. Although he had eaten a breakfast sandwich immediately upon getting to campus, he grabbed a healthy looking danish for the meeting. It was dry and mediocre as campus food tended to be, but that didn’t stop him from inhaling it within minutes. A few of his colleagues eyed his bulging waistline although no one made a comment.

Midway through the two hour meeting Robert found that his stomach was already growling to be fed. With no other choice, he would have to eat another Danish despite the fact he would be the only one going for seconds. He stood to grab one more danish and as he sat down he heard the unmistakable noise of a seam busting. Praying no one else heard, he subtly reached down to his thighs where a small hole had formed.

After the meeting he headed straight to the bathroom to examine the damage. It wasn’t too bad, maybe just an inch or so large. Plus, his underwear matched his pants so it was barely noticeable. He figured he could get through the day without anyone noticing. Although no one noticed the tear in his pants, his students were fully aware of his newfound growth.

“Mr. Daniels lookin’ THICK,” someone commented before his first class began.

Robert ignored the comment and got on with his lecture. Still, in the back of his head he worried about his appearance and snug outfit. There was no question he would be investing in some new work clothes. By the end of the class he was hungry once again. At least it was lunch time, so he felt justified in heading to the student union for a big meal. He grabbed a massive burrito, chips and guac, a cookie, and large soda which he brought back to his desk.

Such a filling lunch was exactly what he needed. The food was comforting and satisfying, giving the plump professor a sense of peace. After scarfing it all down he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Just as he did so two buttons on his shirt went shooting across the room. “Fuck,” he said aloud to himself and went searching for the buttons so he could sew them back on. As he knelt on his hands and knees he felt the contents of his belly slosh forward and the seam of his pants rip even further.

Eventually, he found the missing buttons and broke out the sewing kit to get them back on. By the time he was finished stitching himself back into his clothes, there was someone knocking at his door. He’d forgotten about office hours. In a mad rush he cleaned the food wrappers off his desk and greeted the student. As he sat back down at his desk the same two buttons snapped back off and shot under his desk. Although the student overtly stared at Robert’s bulging gut, filled to the brim with his fattening lunch, neither of them acknowledged the embarrassment.

After the student left, Robert took off the button up and slipped his spare sport coat over his tee. The tee was more than a little snug and definitely didn’t hide much- the indentation of his belly button was fully visible- but it would have to do. After a constant stream of students over the course of an hour Robert rushed to his next class. The lecture left Robert feeling exhausted and tired. It was evening and he had grown peckish again, so he decided to grab a bite to eat before he had a meeting with the dean and could go home.

Hawaiian barbecue sounded like a good idea when he ordered it. However, after gobbling up every last morsel, the young professor felt uncomfortably full and bloated. He yearned for to return to the cruise ship where he could take a long nap after overindulging, but instead he sluggishly headed to the dean’s office. His belly had swelled considerably with the Hawaiian food and he found himself having to stretch the hem of his shirt down to ensure his gut was fully concealed.

Once inside, Robert cautiously took a seat in one of the rickety old chairs in the waiting room for the dean. After a few seconds he felt a snap underneath his ass as the seat of the chair gave way. Trying to be as subtle as possible, Robert cautiously lifted himself from the broken chair and casually examined a painting on the wall until the dean greeted him.

Once inside, the dean offered him a home baked muffin that his wife had made. Robert tried to refuse at first but the dean pushed it on him. He began pecking at the muffin and realized it was indeed quite moist and delicious. He polished it off in a couple minutes and resisted licking his fingers. By the end of the meeting the dean persuaded Robert to take one more muffin for the road. Without a second thought, Robert greedily snatched the biggest muffin of the bunch.

As he walked through the campus at night, illuminated by lanterns, Robert gobbled up the muffin while reflecting on the fact that he was in desperate need of a new wardrobe. His belly was stuffed to capacity and the sheer weight of it bulging out in front of him forced Robert to walk slow and steady with his shoulders back and hips forward. Freed from his constricting button up, his rounded gut peeked out from behind the sport coat and wobbled back and forth with each step to his car.

The walk seemed longer than usual, likely because he was slower than usual. Somewhat winded, Robert couldn’t wait to sit down as he opened the door to his hatchback. However, as he did so, a booming snap assaulted his ears and he felt his belly spill forward into his lap. Robert’s belt had completely snapped in half while the thigh of his pants simultaneously split all the way open from knee to crotch. His girth was simply too much to contain.

At least it happened at the end of the day, he told himself.

[theartofdreaming1]

Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2)  that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh* 

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use  their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought.  - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

[junicai]

Aria + Periods + 127 = Chaos

Taeil

taeil has a younger sister, so he didn’t need her to explain anything to her

honestly, he’s one of the members she’ll go to first if she needs anything

the least likely to make a big deal out of it

just kinda

shrugs

and does what is needed of him

sometimes pain meds don’t do anything for aria’s cramps they get so bad

and on those days, she’ll slid into his bed and either

A: snuggle with him and let him cuddle her

or B: just curl up underneath his sheets until he gets back from wherever he was and then do option A

he really hates her periods

like, more than she does

because she’s always a little deflated in the upcoming days, and for the first two of the actual periods

and he hates seeing her in pain or be sad

even if the thing she’s sad at is the advertisement of the cute dog

definitely chuckles at her when she comes to him with slightly teary eyes and whines that she misses her dog now

but opens his arms willingly anyway, letting his maknae plonk herself in his lap and rest her head on his chest

Johnny

there is no better man to try and make aria feel better

that’s actually a lie

aria will point blank avoid him on her periods

he read once

once

in an article that physical exercise helps with cramps and the other pms-ing symptoms

and now every single time she opens her mouth to complain about her uterus trying to eject itself from her body

johnny’s right there with an invitation to the gym

he’s literally packed and changed, they can go right now

truth be told aria took him up on the offer once

never again

she couldn’t walk afterwards

he had to carry her out

asides from that though

he’s pretty okay with everything?

like obviously, he doesn’t really get it all too much, but if she wants someone to massage her back, then he’ll offer without too many questions

but when she’s crying about something?

oh ho ho ho

bear hugs

just a big ol’ swaddling hug that makes aria feel warm n safe n content

they heal everything

it’s aria’s life philosophy

Taeyong

totally understanding

she needs pads? he’s either already bought them, or will go out to buy them for her

doesn’t have a tracker for her, but somehow knows when she’s cramping the week before its due

once came up with the innovative idea of using their handwarmers as a makeshift hot water bottle when they were on a schedule and aria was suffering :(

aria gets really bad lower back cramps, and its super common to just see him gently pushing her onto the couch

so he can try and massage some of the tension

keeps pads in his travelling bags

completely unprompted - it just started being something he’d pack

like heat packs and pain patches and bandages;

period supplies just eventually got added to the list

was a little uncomfy with the whole thing at the start

but his older sister yelled at him

told him to stop “being a baby” and “she’s your responsibility, act like it.”

aria felt really bad for burdening him with it all

lowkey wished she was a boy for inconveniencing everyone with it

and taeyong had to sit her down and tell her no baby

it was natural and it didn’t bother anybody

that she didn’t have to hide it

that she could come to them if she was in pain because of it

Yuta

oh this man

when he found out that aria was getting lightheaded on her periods

when he found out that she passed out once on her period

did so much research on why that might have happened and how to help

literally stayed up all night and came to aria the next morning like

“are you eating enough iron?”

the answer was no, btw

made it his mission to make sure aria did after that

always has a little bag of nuts or something else in a side pocket of his bag if he knows aria’s on her period

gets concerned asf when she misses her periods

because he knows it’s because of unnecessary diets or her putting in extra time in the practice room

aria loves going to his room when she’s feeling miserable

he’s always down to watch a movie or just lay down with her

he’ll plait her hair or just lay together and press a lil kiss to her forehead when she whines about the cramps

hates hates hates when she cries

he knows it’s because of hormones, he has two sisters

but that doesn’t make it easier

will do absolutely anything to get her to stop crying

once went out at 3am to get her ice-cream

which actually made her cry harder

bc she felt bad that she couldn’t eat it because she’s lactose-intolerant

he just felt worse

that was not a good night

now the freezer in the dorms has a little tub of non-dairy ice-cream with aria’s name on it

curtesy of yuta

Doyoung

when aria first moved into the 127 dorms

he bought a little pink box with a lid that he then proceeded to fill with tampons and pads; the whole shebang

which he then put in the locker beneath the sink

and told anyone that if they made a big deal out if it, he’d kill them :)

incredibly perceptive

knows when aria’s on her period before aria knows

“hey do u need a pad?” “ why do i need a pad?”

*an hour later*

“oppa do u have any pads”

he’s less of a come here and i’ll comfort you type

and more of a, i’m going to help you from the sidelines without ever actually acknowledging it’s existence

like perceiving it makes it worse

honestly aria’s pretty thankful he’s like this

she loves that the other members take care of her like they do, don’t get her wrong

but its like, for five days - she can do no wrong, she’s accommodated, and sometimes walked on eggshells around

it’s nice to have someone who’s going to treat her like normal

to balance it out

does that stop her pulling the “i’m in pain” card when she’s about to get scolded?

no

Jaehyun

jaehyun doesn’t have any siblings, so he was really learning from scratch with aria

however

that was actually a good thing

because it meant that whatever aria told him; he did

if she needed a heating pack - he’d go find one for her

if she needed to just lie down for a bit - he’d take her into her room and close the curtains to let her take a nap

now, she didn’t take advantage of this

much

but she just thought it was really sweet of him

and tells him as much

and every time, he’ll just pat her head

maybe a lil kiss on the forehead

and pull the blanket up to her chin before leaving and flicking off the lights

that’s kind of the extent of what he’ll do

mainly because the other members have a lot of it covered already

but it’s pretty common for him to give her a piggyback ride somewhere

if her back is cramping a lot and she doesn’t/can’t walk

no complaints

he just kneels down and aria asks him is he sure

like she’s heavy or something

and he’ll just carry her to wherever they’re going

there’s a lot of fantaken pictures from these moments

people speculate that she’s injured or sick

it happens so regularly that nctzens are genuinely convinced that aria just doesn’t possess an immune system

Jungwoo

jungwoo was surprisingly well prepared when aria first bent over from a sudden onset of cramps

man was ready and knew what to do

he had hyuck going out of the room for water

and had a hand placed on her lower back rubbing gently

never really makes a big deal out of it all

although has told her to play it up once or twice because he wanted to go to bed and practice was running late

she did, and they did end practice almost immediately after

honestly, aria’s pretty convinced that all of jungwoo’s information on how to deal with girls on their periods came from a wikihow article

but that did mean that he had taken the time to look up a wikihow article

so she guesses she can forgive him

and honestly, the fact that he takes it upon himself to do a little of her chores?

she’s not complaining

after the first three times she felt bad enough to tell him to stop though

he didn’t

and now it’s just normal

is very conversational about it all

has no problem with asking her what she needs, instead of hovering around and guessing

which makes it easier on aria as well

the first few times, she felt quite burdensome

and jungwoo levelled her with a look when she told him this

“the only way you’d be burdensome, is if you didn’t talk to the rest of us and suffered silently - in pain.”

that was the end of that really

Mark

unfortunately for mark

aria got her first period when she was with him

poor boy thought she was going to die

“ohmygod you’re bleeding - you’re BLEEDING-”

aria had to calm him down before going to the bathroom

he is pretty oblivious as to what exactly goes on

aria complained once that she missed her last two periods because of the stupid diet she was on

mark literally thought she was going to die

very concerned

she had to sit him down and tell him that no, she wasn’t going to die  

he’s gotten better over the years

as a topic, he’s still pretty uncomfortable with discussing it

but its less of a “i’m a man and this isn’t a manly topic” and more of a “i don’t know anything about this subject and i don’t want to offend somebody, help”

he did by her her first hot water bottle cover though

up until then, she had been using hot water bottles wrapped in towels to prevent her skin from burning

but mark showed up one morning

with a yellow fuzzy thing hidden behind her back

it was a winnie the pooh cover :(

Donghyuck

cuddle buddies

that’s his main role

aria on her period? donghyuck’s pulling out the fluffy blankets and making a pile of her plushies on his bed

time to pull out netflix and cuddle

aria could cry every single time she walks into his room and he’s just opening the covers for her to slip underneath

he does it every time

and somehow she’s still not expecting it

it’s been five years bestie

has accidentally made her cry on more than once occasion though

he doesn’t mean to!

sometimes he’ll say something in passing

and aria will get upset but won’t show it

because she knows she’s not actually upset - it’s just hormones

so she doesn’t tell him she’s upset

and just leaves to go to her own room

does that stop doyoung telling hyuck off for being insensitive?

no

not at all

but he’s normally really good! especially after the first few times

living together has generally made him more preceptive

also just growing up in general

if her cramps are really bad she’ll wake up during the night

and if she had slept in hyuck’s bed the night before

then he usually takes it upon himself to go get her pain meds and a hot water bottle

he’ll rub her back and help her fall back asleep

and then he’ll make sure to write down in his phone that she took x brand of pain meds, so in the morning she’ll have to take y instead

[trueshellz]

@regs09

I hope this is okay! I tried to show her as helpful as possible but a little sparky too. They're not all the same length but I tried to use different scenarios too.

Kuroo

The first time he saw you, you were surrounded by 2nd years pestering you for your phone number and he truly felt sorry for those guys. You couldn’t have had a bigger ‘fuck off’ face even if you tried. As he walked over, he was getting ready to set them straight when he overheard you.

“If you don’t get away from me in the next 10 seconds, I will rearrange your face.”

He’d never seen boys run away apologising so fast in his life, his signature laugh being heard by everyone, even Kenma gave him a WTF look as they walked together down the corridor.

“Oya? You seemed to have put them right in their place.”

Still annoyed at the situation, you whirled around and glared at him, hands placed on your hips. You knew Kuroo Tetsuro, everyone knew Kuroo Tetsuro. Third year, Nekoma volleyball captain, signature smile and absolute flirt.

“You wanna go as well, pretty boy?” You huffed as he held his hands up in mock surrender, grin wide across his face.

“Woah there, sparky. I was coming over to help you.”

Hiking your bag up your shoulder, you purposely walked between him and Kenma. “I didn’t need your help.”

The second time he saw you, he was grabbing a book from the library and he saw you sat with one of the 1st year girls. Exam week was around the corner so the library was busier than usual, he could see some of his teammates in the back too, knowing full well if they failed exams they could be pulled from the upcoming games.

He could see the girl was stressed out from the way she was flailing her arms, her face red as she pointed at her books. He saw you smile as you leaned over, pointing to something before taking out a mini whiteboard and pen from you bag. You giggled as she held her arms up in the air, she must have got the answer right. He was momentarily stunned by your change in demeanor and he could feel himself smile as you clapped for your student.

When you were dating, Kuroo was more than aware of how people perceived you. He had the same issue to some extent, being perceived as a harsh captain with a scheming personality meant some students were often scared to approach him. But when you were alone, you would often curl up to him on the sofa and often acted cute in front of him especially when he came home after a game to help cheer him up. Packing bento boxes for his lunches with cute cut out fruit and animal shaped onigiri and leaving cute notes in his bags and books.

You would always come near the end of Nekoma practice matches with drinks or healthy snacks for his team, who loved you for this reason. Yamamoto more so than the rest, a huge flirt who tried to hug attack you every time only to get yelled at by your boyfriend and given clean up duties as punishment.

"Tetsu, he just wants a hug."

He mock pouted as he looked at you, his lip stuck out almost comically. "Those hugs are mine, he can't have any."

The manager and you got along well too, you would help them by sweeping up after the boys or tidying away the equipment. A few times you helped Lev out when he tore his uniform falling over or tripping on his long legs as he got used to playing volleyball. He would feel so bad too, looking at you like a lost puppy as you sewed up his hem or patched a hole he had in his shorts or t shirt. The one time he managed to rip the stitching of his t shirt up to his arm pit when he skidded across the floor trying to save the ball. Needless to say, it didn't end well and you were glad you had taken to carrying a sewing kit with you when you went to watch them practice.

"I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine, Lev. Don't worry about it."

Kuroo knew the saying: Don't judge a book by it's cover, but he didn't realise how true it was until he met you. He could have missed out on one of the best people in his life.

Bokuto

Bokuto was known for having a cheery outlook on life, yes he had his emo moments but it took a lot to get him down generally. But you always baffled him, whenever he saw you it seemed as though you were angry or annoyed. In class, no matter the task or who you worked with, you looked fed up. After school when you were walking home, you seemed frustrated. At lunchtime, you sat with friends but you seemed like you'd had enough. You were a conundrum to him.

After school one day, he was walking towards the local shop to grab some snacks and he saw you crouching on the ground, your face was a mixture of awe and sadness as you looked at a box on the ground. As he neared you, he could hear small whines and the scratching against the box and when he peered over your shoulder he could see some puppies in the box.

"Someone left them here alone?"

You jumped as you heard his voice, looking up to see him standing over you, he had his bag slung on his shoulder and was still dressed in his volleyball gear. You'd seen him around school, he sat on the opposite side of the classroom to you so you never worked together. You knew he was the captain of the school's volleyball team but didn't know much else about him.

"Yeah, it's so cruel. They're only babies too."

And that was how you two became started friends and eventually dating, bonding over your love for animals and disdain for the situation. He accompanied you to the local animal shelter where you dropped the puppies off, not being able to take them home. He was enthralled by your change in demeanor, you would always smile at him and act a lot more animated. You would help Akaashi get him out of his funk when he had a bad day or one of his moves didn't go to plan. He had taken to buying you the famous octopus plushie too and would use it to gauge your mood, you found it hilarious. If you were sad or angry, he would come bearing snacks or gifts and if you were happy, he knew he was able to hug attack you and smother you in kisses.

Attending every game, you would always dress in his team number and cheer the loudest for him. After school, you would help him unwind, either spending time giving him a massage or just cuddling on the sofa together. You would lay on him, arms and legs intertwined as you watched television or playing with hair as his head was in your lap. Even going as far to sometimes climb into the front of his hoodie so you would be skin to skin with him. You loved the feel of his heartbeat against your ears and his breathing would calm you. You spent more time in his lap, head buried in his neck than sat alone as you lived feeling his body heat against you. Thankfully, Koutaro didn't mind, he loved the attention and having you close to him.

Who knew such a angry little bean would become such a cute little sloth?

Osamu

Every weekend like clockwork at lunchtime, you would walk in and order 2 meals. One to eat at the time and one to pick up at the end of your meal and take away. You always sat in the corner by yourself, flicking through your phone. You weren't rude or anything, but you had an aura of 'leave me alone' or else which usually kept people away from you. As Osamu watched, he couldn't help but wonder about you and your background.

He tried talking to you first, but apart from polite conversation you didn't seem to want to talk to him. He tried broaching lots of subjects but you just gave minimal answers. He was quite frustrated to say the least, Atsumu didn't help with his idea either. They just seemed to be annoying or potentially harassing, neither a great choice.

It was the end of the day when he was packing away, you had just left the restaurant and Osamu was packing all the left over food in boxes to give to the homeless people around the restaurant. He didn't like wasting food, not being one to be ungrateful and decided early on to donate it to those who were less fortunate. Carrying the snack packs, he started his usual journey down the roads and handing his packages out to anyone who was in need.

As he rounded the corner, he saw you leaning down speaking to an elderly lady who had a small child. She looked tired, her cheeks red from exhaustion and cold, the child looking equally cold in this weather too. They had been selling fruit from what he could see and he stared in fascination as you not only bought their remaining stock but gave them the second meal you bought that day.

"No, no. You always do this. It's not fair, we'll exchange. You give me food for my fruit."

"Auntie, no. You know very well that I don't expect payment for this. Its a gift. Take the food, go home and eat. Use the money for your daughter."

Nearing to you, he bowed quickly before leaning down and handing the child some onigiri. She smiled up at him, all toothy and he felt his heart warm up seeing her munch away at the rice ball. Looking at you, he could see the broad smile on your face as you bantered with the woman, seeing you like this was such a contrast to your usual stoic attitude.

This routine continued for a few weeks, eventually you would help Osamu out with his packing. Carrying some of the lighter packages to hand out to everyone, your conversation becoming more and more in depth the more you spoke to one another. You had more in common than you thought, including your selflessness you both had similar taste in music and movies.

One thing led to another and soon you found yourself dating, Osamu didn't realise how cute you were in real life until you moved in together. He remembered how shocked he was when you bought matching Pikachu onesies to wear and would take lots of selfies with him. His phone was full of cute pictures that he got during the day with little messages and lovey dovey quotes. The apartment was full of couple things like matching slippers and the progression of your relationship through little mementos strewn across the wall.

You would spend any spare time you had at his shop helping him, or trying to as you seemed to get distracted by how pretty your boyfriend was. Or you would come behind him and attach yourself in a backhug, Osamu wouldn't be able to get much done with a limpet attached so you compromised on a only doing that when he had a break.

What started as a fascination ended up being one of the biggest surprises of his life and he couldn't imagine his life without you in it.

[pedrosbish]

still friends, not lovers

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: supposed unrequited feelings, angst, lil bit of fluff, rubbish

Colours of red and orange danced across the sky, painting everything below it in a calmness that was difficult to find nowadays. Your eyes follow the skyline until they fall upon the people working around you. The blue swishes of fabric proving their hard work as they collect the luminescent krill from their water farms, woven baskets holding the large numbers of their catches. The air is crisp as you breath in, your lungs expanding as it is filled with a freshness that you couldn't get in space. 

It was calm here. A calmness that you needed. 

You had stumbled into the open hatch of the Razor Crest in an attempt to get away from the rowdy group of men that had followed you in the seemingly quiet marketplace, calling you lewd names and promising you a good time if you slowed down for them. Their shouting had scared you to the nearby hangar and you had found the nearest ship that had luckily been open. 

The commotion had attracted the resident who had been charting his next mission in the cockpit. The Mandalorian.

As soon as he had descended down the ladder and the group of men had spotted the shiny beskar, they had scattered- after all, everyone knew of the reputation of the infamous bounty hunter. 

He was ready to turn you away, tell you that he wasn’t looking for any help or that he wasn’t prepared to harbour a lost soul, but then you had turned around, tears in your eyes and your chest heaving at an uncomfortable pace. You had quickly thanked him, covering your mouth in an attempt to hide the sob that forced its way up your throat before swiftly making your way to the exit. 

He had stopped you, saying that you could stay as long as you could help him around his ship, patch anything that may be broken, clean up after yourself and stay out of his way. 

Not too long after that, you had another addition to the Razor Crest. A little green thing that the Mandalorian had been tasked with to return to his own kind. Soon he had become another task for you to handle- you had to feed him, bath him, clean after him and make sure that he didn’t eat anything that may not be good for him. 

As the weeks had gone on, the Mandalorian had realised the target that had been painted on the Child’s back and had decided that the three of you should take a short break from travelling and that is how you had ended up on Sorgan seeking refuge. It was short-lived as a small farming village needed help as a group was terrorising them. You could see the hesitation in the way the Mandalorian had carried himself but he could sense the desperation of the people. 

Within days, with the help of the Mandalorian and Cara Dune, the group had been defeated and the tiny village had welcomed their saviours, telling them that they could stay as long as needed. 

You had been prepared for anything that may have happened with your odd life with the Mandalorian and the Child. But you had not been prepared for the crush you had developed on the supposed “cold-hearted” man hidden beneath the beskar. 

“Are you alright?”

The soft-spoken question makes you look up at the person standing before you. Omera. She had welcomed your odd little trio into her village with open arms, setting up a hut and offering to get you anything you needed. For such a quiet yet beautiful woman, her presence captured the attention of anyone around her and you had noticed how often the visor of the Mandalorian was trained on her, following every movement she made. He had been easily impressed with her determination to help protect her village, the love she had for her people and the kindness she had shown to the Child. 

Your heart had cracked little by little the longer you stayed in the village, your attention solely focussed on trying to avoid being present in any interactions between the bounty hunter and the villager. 

“Yes,” you say, looking at the fire being set up a little ways away. The Mandalorian stands next to it, hands on his hips as he watches the Child interact with the other children of the village. He must have sensed your staring as his helmet tilts towards you, watching, and you quickly look back up at Omera. “Sorry, I must have been daydreaming.”

She nods her head knowingly, tilting her head towards the fire. “We’re setting up for a meal if you would like to join?”

“Oh,” you glance towards the Mandalorian who is now slowly moving towards you and Omera. “I’m actually not that hungry. I-I-I think I’m going to turn in early.” 

Without looking back, you quickly make your way towards the hut where you hide under the covers and attempt to fall asleep, ignoring the way your heart thumps painfully in your chest and your eyes burn with unshed tears. You’re unaware of how much time passes but when you manage to crack your eyes open again, there’s a plate of untouched food next to your bed. 

“Did you leave the food next to my bed?” 

The Mandalorian glances up at you from his weapon, the gun becoming shinier with every wipe of the cloth over it. 

“Yes,” he lays down his weapon next to him and gets up from his seat. “I noticed that you have not been eating much recently.”

He takes a step closer to you as you quietly whisper a ‘thank you’, too embarrassed to say anything else. Your breath hitches as he takes off a glove, pressing his bare hand to your forehead. 

“You don’t feel sick,” he says quickly before putting his glove back on. “Please tell me what’s wrong Cyar’ika? Did I do something wrong?”

“Why- why would you say that?”

He sighs softly, tilting his visor towards the village before looking back at you. The small clearing around you is quiet, the wind blowing through the trees and the small animals making noises within the surrounding forest reaching your ears. 

“You have barely spoken to me since we have been here and you have been avoiding me as well. I was worried that I may have done something to upset you-”

“I’m sorry,” your throat constricts as you look into the visor, imagining the eyes hidden beneath them. You can imagine the warmness in them as he looks at you, filling your heart with false hope. “I guess I'm just...restless.”

He nods his head, “Would you like to leave?”

Your eyes begin to burn and your face heats up as you realise what you have to do. “I think you should stay here. I can take the Child and return him to his own kind while- while you stay. With Omera.”

“What?”

You take a small step away from him, glancing at the village as you cross your arms over your chest. Your eyes are burning and you quickly wipe away a tear as it falls down your cheek. “C’mon, Mando. I see the way you look at her, like-like she’s the only person in the world. You clearly like her and I think she likes you too. You should stay, start a new life with her.”

“Is that what you want?” His eyebrows are scrunching with confusion underneath his helmet, his heart clenching as he watches the emotions play on your face. Heartbreak.

Hesitating with your answer, you shake your head and take a deep breath before squaring your shoulders and facing him. “No, no it isn’t. Mando, I am in love with you and I know you don’t like me in that way. That’s why you should stay.” 

Silence. 

Nodding your head, you turn away, ignoring the way your heart feels like it’s caving in on itself as you take his hesitation to mean rejection. “I’m going to go and pack our things. Goodbye Mando.”

“Wait!” He catches your wrist and tugs you into him. “Cyar’ika. Please don’t leave. I-I...dank farrick.”

His gloved hand cups your cheek and he tilts your head towards him, wiping a fallen tear away. Your breathing calms as his thumb rubs soothingly across your skin. 

“Sweet girl,” his helmet falls softly upon your forehead and you close your eyes, your heart thumping wildly within your chest with a new found hope as he gently holds your hand to the beskar on his chest. “I am not good at emotions or words but what I feel for you...I cannot put it into words. But just know- just know that you mean the world to me.

“My interactions with Omera were not meant to be perceived as romantic and I am sorry if that is how you saw it. I-I want to be with you and the Child, if you will have me.”

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 2 – The Man In The Rotting Suit

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5051

You get to go home early, which is nice. Now if only you could shake that guy from the graveyard. It doesn't help that no one else is able to even see him. There has to be some way to get rid of him, right?

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

Deep breaths. Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth. You're fine. Just ignore the man grinning at you seated in your passenger seat. Everything was normal and fine. He's not really there.

"So, where to, babes?"

You sucked a long sharp breath and glanced over to the delusion. He definitely looked at home in a graveyard, with the patches of moss on pale skin and sporting a frayed suit coated in dirt and grime. The man flashed you another grin showing off sharp teeth that likely have never seen a toothbrush.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored the apparition while you get your shitty car started. A few minutes later, the car clanged and sputtered awake. You shoot whatever was in your passenger seat a glare before pulling out of the small lot and headed home.

The man next to you groaned after you passed the first stoplight. You glanced over to him. He crossed his arms, and wore a frown on his face. The green color in his hair dulled from when he was in the store. His tone looked to be a more purple hue.

"Come on, babes, I know you can see and hear me!"

You stayed silent and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light. He was right—much to your vexation—you could perceive him. In more ideal circumstances you'd seek professional help from a doctor or therapist, but that costs money. So you're forced to bank on the hope that ignoring the delusion makes him disappear.

He huffed and pouted more. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone could see me. I ain't leaving so soon."

You press your lips tighter into a line and kept your eyes on the road. His peculiar wording bounced around in your head for the next few stops. Soon that bled into playing the events of the funeral. He was there, bugging the mourners and going unnoticed.

"Fine. What are you?"

You catch the dimmer purple wash away from his hair and brighten to a vivid green.

"Aw babes, I knew you'd come around!"

"Please answer the question."

"Oh, and so polite! Alright sweets, since you asked so nicely; I am a ghost!"

You spared a glance over to him as you turned onto the dingy road leading to your apartment. The skeptic in you wanted to counter and say that wasn't possible, but you doubted voicing that would magically make your unwanted passenger disappear.

"Alright then, mister ghost, why are you following me?"

"Already told ya, you're the first breather able to see me in a long time."

"So, are you planning to haunt me? Make my life worse than it already is? Because so help me god I'll kick your ass straight to Hell if you try."

You parked your car and turned, giving him a pointed glare. His citrine eyes lit up as his grin stretched so large it threatened to split his face.

"Feisty! I like that in a breather."

You grumbled under your breath and looked around the parking lot. Your car was one of maybe four parked there. There weren't any milling tenets out, either. Nevertheless, you weren't keen on staying out in your car the entire day talking to a ghost.

"I'm going inside. If you want to follow me, then you're going to have to answer my questions. Got it?"

"Anything you want, babes."

You breathed out through your nose and unbuckled yourself. As you stepped out you caught sight of the ghost floating out the front of your car where he waited for you on the curb. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rolled back, putting his weight on his heels. The ghost flashed you another grin, and you doubted any good could come from this.

No second guesses or weaseling out by that point. You told him to follow you as you made your way to the apartment. Up the flight of stairs and to the end of the hall, you were almost home free.

"Parker!"

The harsh rasp of a smoker shouted at you. Every fiber of your being tensed up, and you fought to put on a smile in front of the dragon. She marched up to you with narrow eyes locked on you.

"Hi Donna."

"Who the hell left your apartment yesterday? I swear if you're smuggling a roommate in there I'm going to raise your rent."

"That was my friend, Sam. They're moving and stopped by to say goodbye. Wait, how did you know Sam even visited? Didn't you go out last night?"

"I got complaints about you."

You keep your mouth shut for the moment. This was a conversation you preferred not to drag out. You simply nodded to her as you carefully thought over your next words.

"Sam only dropped by to say goodbye."

"And who is 'Cassie'?"

You tensed up to the point your muscles could turn to stone any minute. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and you struggled to keep up a friendly act.

"They're a co-worker."

Donna huffed at you, followed by a sneer showing off tobacco-stained teeth. She waved you off and turned, pulling out her smokes as she left. Donna uttered an insult your way before descending the stairs.

"Ain't she a delight."

You whipped your attention to the gravelly voice and found the specter with narrowed eyes pointed at the landing. His brow and nose scrunched up as he glared and you noted odd flecks of red in his hair.

You got your keys out and unlocked your door. "She's a bitch, but this apartment was the best I could afford. Easier to just grin and bear it."

"You know sweets, we could help one another with our problems." He said. You raise a brow at him before you stepped into the apartment. While he didn't exactly need you to, you stepped to the side and held the door open for him. "Babes, you are adorable. I'd give ya a big ol' 'thank you' kiss if I could."

"Please don't," you said, closing the door.

He let out a hardy laugh and then winked your way. You frowned and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He scanned over the apartment while you studied him. The ghost's ragged appearance gave the impression that he recently crawled out of the grave. His pale skin grew bits of moss that blended into his hair. Dark rings circled his amber eyes. And a layer of rot and grime coated his odd frayed suit.

"Like what ya see, sweets?"

Heat rushed to your face, and you furrowed your brow at that. "You could use a bath."

"You breathers and bathing. What's even the point of it?"

"Health. It cleans away dead skin, and any diseases stuck on you, helps with sore muscles and aches, and can just help improve your mood overall."

"Shit. I didn't expect you to actually have an answer."

"Had one or two school wide lessons back in high school telling the kids that body spray was not a substitute for a shower."

He blinked at you. He shrugged a moment later and took a step closer, with his hands behind his back. "Anyway, back to my point. I think we can help each other out."

"How?"

"You and me could get rid of that awful hag! Decapitation, eaten alive by rats, electrocution, I'm open to suggestions!"

"Real casual with murder, huh? Yeah, no, not interested."

"Wait! Okay, it doesn't have to be murder. I could scare her so bad that she runs off and never comes back! We can workshop that later. But first I need you to say my name!"

"What would saying your name do to 'help'? And I don't know your name, you never said it."

The nameless ghost rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Did the dead still need to breathe? That didn't seem right.

"Right now I can't affect much of anything. You saw how that guy walked right through me, right?"

You nodded.

"But if you say my name three times, I get my powers back and won't be stuck being invisible." There was a certain excitement in his tone when he said that. One that lit up his amber eyes with... something.

Your lips twitch downward as you mulled over his words. He said earlier you were the first person to see him in a long time. How long you couldn't be sure without asking, but truly any stretch of time sounded so lonely. However, you couldn't just let him have free range to do whatever he pleased. He already proposed murder as means of dealing with your landlady. This ghost could be impossibly destructive if unleashed.

"I don't know. How can I—"

A vicious yowl made you jump. It came from the other side of the wall.

"Shit!"

You rushed around the corner and opened the bathroom door. A white blur ran past you to the underside of the coffee table. Aqua colored eyes glared at you, only to shift focus in the ghost's direction.

You ignored that for the moment and instead turned your attention to the bathroom. The smell hit you first, the acrid scent of cat piss. You groaned as you looked over the state of the bathroom. The toilet paper shredded in tethers on the cheap linoleum, food and water bowls flipped with contents scattered, and a yellow puddle next to the litter box. Fantastic.

"Why was your cat locked in the bathroom?"

"I'm pet-sitting for a friend, and I can't have pets in the apartment," You said while you dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. "I'm keeping him mostly confined to the bathroom, so it's not obvious a cat's here for two weeks."

"Why are you pet-sitting if you can't have pets here?"

"Because my friend couldn't board their cat anywhere else. They promised me a couple hundred bucks to do it too, so I bit the bullet."

"If you're hard up for cash, I know an easier way to get it."

You glanced back at him with a raised brow but kept quiet to focus on cleaning. A minute later, once cleaned of Rigel's mess, you tossed the toilet paper in the bathroom trash and asked, "And what method would that be?"

"Just taking it! I won't get caught, babes, and even if I did, there's nothing a breather could do about it. Come on, all you gotta do is say my name three times in a row!"

You stay quiet for a minute as you washed your hands. You dried your hands and turned to face him, saying once more, "I don't know your name."

"Well, I can't say it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed. I can't say my own name."

"Is it... Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Sweets, that hurts. You really think my sexy self could be that little imp?"

"Well, other than taking more shots in the dark, how else would I figure out your name?"

"We could..." He trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. His face lit up a moment later as he said, "We could play a game or something so you can figure it out!"

His grin stretched wide as he wore an earnest hope on his features. It was rather sweet, strangely enough, and made the notion of turning him down seem harsh. You mulled over your decision. While you didn't want to say no, you weren't keen on agreeing either. If you said yes, he'd expect you to say his name afterwards.

"And if I figure out your name, then what? Setting you free doesn't seem like a smart idea."

He instantly deflated when he heard that. Smile gone, brows furrowed. Even the vibrancy of his green hair looked like it dulled to a blueish purple. He looked crushed, and knowing you caused it struck you with a bit of guilt. You couldn't blindly trust him, but you didn't want to see him so hurt.

"Look. We just met. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Cause we're BFFFFs Forever!"

"B-F-F—... You want to be friends?"

He nodded vigorously, with a glimmer of hope rekindled in his eyes. Your guts twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer he gave you the lost puppy look. If he truly was alone and unseen for any stretch of time, then desperately wanting a friend made sense. And for whatever strange reason, you were the one able to see him.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal. We can be friends, but I won't free you until you've earned my trust. If I feel like I can trust you by the end of the month, then I'll say your name."

His grin reappeared, showing off sharp yellowed teeth. His hair also grew to a vibrant green. "Aw babes, you're the best! We are going to be great friends!"

You gave him a half smile, finding his excitement endearing if not a tad contagious. You finished up with cleaning the rest of the mess, and while doing so, you threw out a few more guesses of what his name might be. They were all wrong, but "Cthulhu" got a laugh out of him.

Once done with tidying the bathroom, you check on the furball under the shoddy coffee table. The devil cat hissed at you and swiped a clawed paw at you for daring to get so close. His eyes were thin slits and seemed to shift between yourself and somewhere behind you. You followed his gaze and landed on the ghost. You even asked him to move and the cat's gaze followed him.

"Huh. Looks like Rigel can see you."

"Rigel?"

"The fuzz-bucket of pure rage over here. His name is Rigel."

"Like the star in Orion?"

"Yeah, actually. The bright white star, that's why Sam named him that."

"Do you know any other stars in Orion?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

"Eh... can't say."

You raised a brow at him. You wanted to find out the other stars in the constellation after he asked that—but with no internet access at the apartment or even a smartphone, you couldn't do that. All you owned was a cheap little prepaid flip phone straight out of the early aughts.

You shrugged it off and made a note to search that the next day on the store's computer. In the meantime, you sat down on the couch, kicking your shoes off to pull your feet up too. You didn't want to take the chance of that cat getting ballsy and going after you.

"So Mr. Whatsyourname, how am I going to figure out your name?"

He floated down to the other end of the couch and shrugged. You pressed your lips tight and hummed in thought as you worked out a means to find out his name.

"Well, playing twenty questions is getting us nowhere. Then again, throwing out random guesses isn't how you play that, but whatever. You can't spell it out, can you?"

"No, I suck at spelling it. And I can't, cause that would count as telling you it."

"Hmm, do you think you could use pictures to 'spell' it? Like using—a fly, a car, and a dog, to get the result of a flying carpet?"

"That might work, but I can't affect things, babes."

"But I can. Give me a sec, I'll get some paper." You rushed off to your bedroom and come back with a pencil and sketch pad. You took your seat back on the couch and turned to sit side by side with the ghost rather than facing him. "Alright, you tell me what shapes to draw."

You flipped to a blank page, skipping the older pages filled with various sketches and doodles. Once you got to a clean page, you held the book at an angel he could easily see.

The first thing he said to draw was a rectangle, a narrow one standing upright. Then a shorter and much thinner one at the top of the first. Followed by a third the same size as the second but connecting with it at an angle.

"Is that a juice box?"

"Nix the box."

"Juice?"

He nodded with a Cheshire grin. "Great! Now draw a circle on the front of the box."

You did so, as well as draw the six lines going out from the circle like he asked.

"Bug?"

"No, more specific. Draw lines on it in a 'T' shape."

You drew the segments on the bug, which gave it a distinct head and a line along its back. You look over the drawing and ask, "Is it a beetle?"

"Yes!"

"Beetle... juice?"

"Yes! You got it!"

You hum to yourself and look over the picture more. Such a strange name. Was that his name in life, too? Or did he get a new name upon death? Does everyone? Can you choose your name?

"I can see why your name's Art."

You shook out of your thoughts and jerked your head to the ghost—Beetlejuice—sitting beside you. You huffed a small laugh and closed the sketchbook.

"That's not my name."

"But that guy at the store—"

"I don't put my real name on my apron."

"Okay, Parker—"

"Not my name either."

"What? But that bitch called you Parker."

"I don't want people knowing my name. So, I don't give out my real name."

"Not even to your BFFFF Forever?"

"How about instead of telling you, you try to guess it? No hints either."

Beetlejuice groaned and whined at that, but you didn't budge. You instead gave him a sly smile of your own. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at you, and you did your best to not break into laughter. How was that disheveled ghost able to look so cute?

"Babes, tell me! You know my name now, I want to know yours."

"I had to play a game to figure out your name, only fair you have to do the same to learn mine."

"I'm cursed though. I can't say my name. Well, my middle name anyway."

You blinked and tilted your head as you processed his last comment. His middle name? How odd. You shrugged at him and said, "You can either try to figure out my name or maybe if I end up trusting you, I'll tell you. But for now, you don't need it."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"You've been doing just fine with nicknames like—babes, sweets, and breather."

"Fine. But I want to know your name at some point."

"When I'm more comfortable, it's a personal thing. What about you, though? Can I call you by a nickname?"

"Sure! You could use—sexy, or handsome, or hot stuff."

"Or none of those," you said, shaking your head. You did your best not to crack and laugh. "How about Beetle, or Bug? Simple and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?" He asked with a purr that caused your face to burn.

"I think you're weird, and strange, but not the most terrible at least."

"I'll take it!"

There was that bright smile again. Wide and full of sharp teeth. This ghost was a very perplexing being. The more you saw his smile, the more your own lips curled into a smile of your own.

"Okay, so if you're going to hang around here, we should set up some ground rules and get other things squared away. Like—I don't want you going in my bedroom unless I invite you in and stay out of the bathroom too."

"Aw, that's no fun."

"Do you sleep or anything?"

"I can, but I don't need to. Same goes for food when I'm not stuck being invisible."

"Can you affect anything while you're like that? Lights? Electronics?"

"No. The air gets cold around me. Other than that, can't do much of anything while invisible."

You nodded with a small frown. That must be so boring—stuck watching the world go by, unable to affect anything or even seen by anyone. That experience didn't sound pleasant. As much as you wanted to keep a low profile, you couldn't bear to be that level of unnoticed.

"Well..." you said, getting your thoughts back on track, "If you don't need to sleep, what do you want to do while I'm asleep? You want me to set up a movie for you in the living room? Or I guess you could go snoop around the other apartments and see what everyone else is doing. Lord knows there's always someone awake in this place no matter the hour."

"You're giving me a free pass to spy on your neighbors?"

"You said you can't affect anything other than making it cold, so I don't see a problem. Hell maybe if you annoy enough people with cold spots Donna will have to deal with a bunch of complaints. Maybe she'll even waste money trying to fix things, that'd be fun."

"We are going to be such great friends."

You huffed out a small laugh. As strange as he was—and maybe a little too gung ho with murdering your landlady—Beetlejuice seemed like he would make for... interesting company.

You checked the time on your phone. Five in the afternoon. Only an hour left of your shift. Well, if you hadn't left early. You tossed your phone on the coffee table with a clatter. Your action earned a venomous hiss from Rigel.

"So, um, if you don't need to sleep but can, do you want me to set up the couch as a bed? I don't have anywhere else to set one up and if Donna thinks I have other people living here, she's going to be pissed."

"Good thing I'm dead."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes. "Well yeah, technically. Existing here then, which dead or alive; you do exist. And that would still piss off Donna."

He huffed and narrowed his eyes, but glanced away from you. "I know you said you want to trust me first, sweets, but I could do a helluva lot more than just annoy her with cold spots. Just give me a chance!"

"I don't know... I don't like her but I don't think that would be a good idea." You sat looking blankly at the couch cushions as you hummed in thought. Even if he had good intentions going in—or more accurately, intentions that benefited you—things could go wrong and land you in a worse spot. Good intentions paved the road to Hell, after all.

"Babes, please, I'm begging. Ya gotta let me do something! I can even hold back on hurting her if that's what you want! I'll just scare the shit out of her!"

You thought over the proposition, and it sounded enticing. You tapped a finger against your cheek as various scenarios of Donna, scared out of her mind, played out. "That does sound fun, maybe later—Wait! It's October!"

"It is? Huh. I thought it was still July."

"Wait what? How...?"

"When you've been around for over a millennium, you stop bothering to keep tabs on time."

"A millennium? That's, holy crap. Okay, I have questions, but first what I was originally saying; It's October. So that means at the end of the month is Halloween. So, what if, if things go well and I trust you by then we plan a big scare for this All Hallows' Eve?"

The ghost shot up, bouncing on the couch. The sudden movement freaked out Rigel enough for him to scurry off to another hiding spot. "Hell yes! Babes, you're the best!" This ghost vibrated with barely contained excitement and you could have sworn he was glowing green.

You held up your hand to hold in a laugh. Beetlejuice radiated a pure joy that was not only endearing but also infectious. While precious to see him so happy, you asked him to compose himself and sit. Incorporeal or not, it’s difficult to carry a conversation while a ghost jumped on the furniture.

He sank back and sat on the couch, though he chose the arm of the couch as his seat. He faced you, still sporting a grin and vibrant green hue, and you couldn't stop smiling at this happy dork. Wanting to keep your discussion going, you cleared your throat and picked things back up with a question.

"You said you've been around for a millennium. So does that mean you lived during the... eleventh century?"

"I was around then, but I've never been alive. I was born dead."

"Born dead? Do... you mean like a stillborn?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm a demon straight from Hell."

"You're a demon-ghost? Ghost-demon?"

"Both, yeah. But enough about me, as great as I am. How'd a pretty little breather like you end up in this shitty apartment?"

You frown and grabbed at your sleeve, not wanting to look him in the eye anymore. "It's kinda complicated and I don't want to go into all of it. I'm just... scraping my life back together and this place is the best I can afford right now." You stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at the ghost. The vibrant joy on his features faded drastically. Guilt stung in your heart for dampening the mood and offered the best masking smile you could muster. You weren't sure it looked all that convincing.

Beetlejuice stayed quiet a moment longer before a smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, now you know who you can call if ya need help dealing with a few problems."

"The ghostbusters?" You asked and cracked a genuine smile.

"Pff. Them? Nah, babe, the ghost with the most! Just gotta say my name three times, spoken unbroken!"

The self proclaimed "ghost with the most" puffed out his chest in a bid to look impressive. It earned a soft chuckle out of you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A low growl filled the room. Heat seared your cheeks as you wrapped an arm over your stomach. Lunch wasn't as filling as you had hoped. You sighed and stood with a stretch. If you didn't make dinner soon, you'll end up nauseous from hunger later.

Your new familiar spirit stayed put sitting on the arm of the couch. However, when you glanced back at him, his head turned around to face you. It unnerved you, and the longer you looked at him the worse the feeling got.

You shook it off as best you can and headed to the fridge, which hid behind a wall jutting out to separate the living room and kitchen. And right then doubled as a divider that blocked you from view of the couch.

Once you dug out the mixed vegetables from the freezer, you turned and caught sight of a large blur on your counter. You seized up, knees locking, and heard a loud laugh bellow out.

"Aw babes, you should've seen the look on your face."

Beetlejuice wiped away some tears, then snapped his fingers. You blinked a few times, unsure what to think of seeing your face on his body. He twisted his—your? features into an expression of shock before cackling. Your mouth hung open, but you couldn't find any words. So you just shook your head and carried on making dinner.

As you worked on getting your dinner prepared, you pick back up the conversation. You and Beetlejuice took turns asking questions to get to know one another. Beetlejuice opened by sharing about his banishment—no clear details, just stated the fact it happened. He also said he got a kick out of the spread of the bubonic plague through Europe.

You grabbed a bowl and poured in your steaming dinner. The savory flavoring of the noodles mixed with the thawed vegetables and wafted in the air. Once you turned the stove off, you sat back on the couch. In between bites, you divulged a few minor details about yourself, like how you've worked for Mr. Turner close to a year and a half, and your hope to one day work in a haunted house attraction. That topic piqued Beetlejuice's interest.

"So, you get to scare people. As a job?"

"Y-yeah. I've thought being a haunted house actor could be a lot of fun. But there's no acting job close enough willing to pay the rate I'd need to make it worth it. And it's seasonal. So it's gotta stay a dream job."

You ate your noodles and mixed vegetables, allowing the specter to take over the conversation and regale you with various stories. One of his stories got you to laugh so hard you ended up swallowing wrong. It took a minute of coughing and sputtering before you stopped choking on your food. You cleared your throat with a short groan and fought to stop laughing.

After you finished dinner, you checked the time. It wasn't too late, but with everything that happened, drowsiness gnawed at the edge of your mind. You tapped your fork against the rim of the bowl as you walked through the mental checklist of what you needed to do before bed. Beetlejuice asked what you were doing and frowned when you told him.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I have work tomorrow and you gave me a few good scares today. I'm getting tired."

He pouted, but you noticed he cracked a smile, hearing that he scared you. You rolled your eyes and got up to put your dish in the sink. When you returned, you pulled several movie cases and set them on the coffee table.

"Pick whichever one you want, I can put it on for you before I go to bed."

You give him a small smile and leave to get ready. A few minutes later, once in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and the cat wrangled back into the bathroom, Beetlejuice picked out a movie. You got it started and tidied up the couch for him.

"You don't have to clean on my account, babes. I don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind, you're my guest, and I want things to be nice." You said and gave him another smile. "G'night, Beetle. See ya in the morning."

[nanasparadise]

Please~ yandere la squadra with a darling that heals them after a battle? Angel 👼 anon but Christmas inspired~

Hi anon! I hope you had a beautiful Christmas! <3 I know I’m super late (T-T), but I hope you still enjoy the headcannons! Where I live, it’s still freezing cold, so the Christmas spirit still lingers a bit in the air.

!!!!! TW: mentions of blood and wounds, implied stalking, implied NSFW, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY !!!!!

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Yan! La Squadra x gender-neutral Stand user reader who heals them during a battle (Christmas edition)

Yan! Risotto

Risotto hates to go to you for help: he likes to appear strong in front of you.

But the battle has been tough and his wounds are quite deep.

You rush immediately to the hitman, inspecting the severity of the wounds.

With your Stand, you’re able to heal him pretty fast and effectively.

Risotto keeps staring at you throughout the whole healing process, red eyes boring intensely into yours.

It does make you quite uncomfortable.

But you push that thought away and instead sigh: why did Risotto have to get into trouble on Christmas?

After you’ve patched him up, you try to look out for the other hitmen in case they need your help as well.

But the silver-haired man puts his calloused hands on your wrists under a tight grip and keeps fixating you.

You are surprised by his action, but he simply states that he needs you in this moment and that you shouldn’t worry about the others.

For Risotto, this admittance of weakness bothers the Italian. But he’d rather like you only for himself. The capo can’t help the feeling of jealousy and possessiveness rising up in him like bile whenever he sees you with the other team members – or anyone that isn’t him, for a fact.

You want to escape his grasp, but something in his gaze – something dangerous that you shouldn’t unleash – makes you remain by his side.

The capo bores again his intense eyes into yours. You feel as though he pierces right through your soul. For you, the quiet feels unbearable. On the other hand, for Risotto, this moment of calmness feels like bliss, like the perfect Christmas present, as he’s got everything he needs right next to him now.

“Good God, Risotto!” “It’s fine, it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Risotto, could you please let me go? I need to look after the others.” “They’re fine. I need you more by my side.”

Yan! Illuso

Illuso comes back with blood covering his clothes. He weakly breaks down on the nearest chair, too exhausted from the battle and the wounds.

You immediately notice the deep cut on his torso. Rapidly, you hurry to his side.

Illuso’s face is adorned with his typical smug smile as you approach him, despite his injury and severe blood loss.

Swiftly, his wounds are healed with your Stand. During the process, the hitman goes on confidently about how he beat the enemy to a bloody pulp. Though you quickly notice his boasting is just to distract himself from the pain.

After you’ve helped him with his injuries, you’re about to see the other hitmen, but Illuso quickly stops you.

The Italian shoots you again one of his self-assured grins and asks you to come sit next to him. With a sigh, you do as he told you.

Illuso mentions how you shouldn’t waste your time with the other members of the team, especially not on Christmas. After all, he could give you a much better time and already has a gift for you…

After all, Illuso knows exactly what you want for presents. He took his time observing you through your mirror to find out everything he needs to know about you.

You feel highly uncomfortable by his comment. So you decide to stand up and leave.

But before you could truly escape the situation, Illuso takes your arm with an iron grip. He discreetly nods at the mirror in the room.

You understand immediately the underlying threat. Not wanting to be dragged into the mirror world, you simply swallow the lump in your throat and sit down again. Internally, you curse your Stand, knowing that it is practically useless in a fight…

Illuso smiles at your compliance, a dark spark glimmering in his red eyes.

The brunette babbles about how he’s gonna make this Christmas perfect for you.

“Of course he was no match for Man in the Mirror. You should have seen how I disfigured his face.” “Sure, Illuso…”

“Why don’t you stay a bit? These men don’t deserve your attention. I can make this Christmas so much better for you, tesoro.”

Yan! Formaggio

Unlike the other members of the team, Formaggio comes with a crooked grin and cracking jokes when he perceives your form. Even though his bloody and bullet-ridden body was nothing to make fun of, you thought.

The Italian groans from time to time when you heal him,  but he secretly also relishes the fact that you touch him so freely.

He keeps on talking about how he can’t wait for the holidays to be over so that the football season can start again. You simply roll your eyes and smile mindlessly at his comment.

Though the young man must admit that he likes the thought of you curled up in your arms while watching a cheesy holiday film.

You nervously chuckle, hoping this was just another one of his jokes.

But the green eyes that stare intensely back at you do make it hard to believe so.

You utter an apology, saying you should see the other hitmen, but your movement is halted by Formaggio’s hand on your upper arm.

The Italian flashes you another grin, though it appears much more sinister this time.

He suggest to stay, having already found the perfect film to watch for you two. You are well aware of the fact that it’s a threat, recognising the menacing edge in his voice.

You aren’t sure how to react: should you risk it and leave or should you just stay?

In the end, much to Formaggio’s satisfaction, you decide to remain with him. After all, this couldn’t be so bad. You two are friends, this doesn’t lead to something more, right?

Meanwhile, the hitman already plans the next intimate moments between you, not taking in account whether you want this or not.

“Well, look at that Y/N, I do give my name much honour with these holes in my body!” “Please Formaggio, don’t joke about that! You could have died.”

“C’mon babe, it’s just a nice evening between us! It’s Christmas, share the spirit, be kind and stay with me.”

Yan! Prosciutto

If it wasn’t for the trail of blood, you wouldn’t have noticed that Prosciutto is injured.

As usual, the blond hides his pain by putting on a perfect stoic face.

You heal him with your Stand, Prosciutto being silent during the treatment. You are shocked to see that his wounds are so deep.

After the process, you ask him about the battle. The assassin quickly gives you all the important information about the enemy, though he reassures you that they are dead now.

Prosciutto has a hard time keeping his professional façade up around you: he can’t help but feel touched by your sincere worry.

Wanting to share the information with the rest of La Squadra, you intend to leave the room. Though Prosciutto’s voice cutting through the air, that leaves no room for disobedience, stops you from doing so.

The Italian confidently asks you out for dinner, wanting to indulge you with his favourite Christmas recipe.

You raise an eyebrow at that invitation, shooting a questioning look at your colleague.

Prosciutto is fully aware of his out of character action, but you made him react untypically more often then you knew: when he kept thinking about you instead of concentrating on his mission, when he kept photos of you in his room, when he imagined your lips on his…

You politely decline his kind offer, pretending you don’t want to bother him. But it’s more the fact that your gut feeling says that something is wrong about the hitman’s sombre gaze.

Prosciutto clicks his tongue at your reaction. He simply takes ungently your hand and drags you out of the room.

You try as best to fight against him, but your resistance turns out to be futile.

The blond is visibly annoyed by your fighting. With The Grateful Dead, he ages your soft hand, leaving it all wrinkled.

You stare at your hand in distraught. You’re smart enough to see the threat behind his action. So you let him drag you out, too scared to act up again.

“Prosciutto, are you alright? You never say when you’re hurt.” “Showing weakness would put a bad example, now wouldn’t it?”

“Why must you always be so stubborn? I just want to take you out for dinner, it’s not too much asked for.”

Yan! Pesci

Pesci groans when he enters the room. He hates to see you worried because of him, but the battle left him in an excruciating pain.

You patch the hitman up as fast as you can, using your Stand efficiently.

During the healing process, the Italian’s dark eyes glisten with something you recognise as affection. You feel uncomfortable under his stare and don’t know how to react. You simply shove it off as him being an emotional friend and man in general.

Though his following words make it clear that he thinks of you more than just a colleague or friend.

Pesci gathers up all his courage. Shyly, he asks you if you would like to spend the remainder of the evening by his side. You could maybe bake some Christmas biscuits, if you like!

Immediately, pity blooms in your chest. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, knowing that he already suffers enough under the sneers of your teammates.

Still, you decline his offer. After all, you don’t want to falsely lead him on… To make it alright, you offer him to do something together with the team instead.

Already being emotional, Pesci’s eyes start to water. He insists spending time with you alone, nearly begging you.

The Italian goes on then about how he can never spend time with you alone… He just wants to participate for once and not being able to watch you doing activities with other people.

Majorly distressed by what he’s just told you, you don’t hesitate a second to leave the room, all sympathy for him gone.

The assassin doesn’t follow you, lucky for you.

Again, Pesci is all by himself, without your presence. It’s going to be a lonely Christmas for him.

“Thank you so much for healing me, Y/N! You’re really like an angel.” “Oh stop it, you’re exaggerating…”

“Please, I’m begging you to stay! It’s going to be fun, I promise! I just want you all for myself, just for once.”

Yan! Melone

It’s untypical for Melone to actively engage in a battle. So when he comes back from the mission, being wounded severely, you are more than surprised.

Even though you tend to avoid the rather lecherous man for his inappropriate comments towards you, you don’t hesitate to heal him. After all, he’s still your teammate.

Seeing you so willingly tending his injuries seems like an open invitation for the assassin to continue his usual dirty talk with you (which of course it isn’t).

He bathes into your warm touch on his cool, naked skin, caused by the cold temperature outside.

You wrinkle your nose at his rather disgusting remarks, threatening him to just let him bleed out the next time, to which the Italian only laughs.

After you’ve fully healed him, you intend to immediately rush out of the room, desperate to create some space between you and Melone.

Your escape appears to be fruitless though as a gloved hand grips tightly on your upper arm. The hitman has surprisingly lots of strength for his slim build.

With eyes of a predator, Melone lets his gaze wander over your body, lust and darkness swirling in his blue eyes.

You are unaware of how much he has longed for a moment with you. He’s grown tired of you avoiding him. You’re his perfect match: the compatible birth charts, the messages from the tarot cards, all of it let to you being his. Or so it should be, in his mind.

You are repulsed by him and do your best to get off from his grasp on you.

Melone doesn’t mind your resistance, perceiving it only as an encouragement for his advances.

He rambles about how he’s got some fun Christmas games prepared for you. Though you definitely don’t want anything about the nature of these supposed games…

With one final push, you finally manage to get out of his hold, a scowl adorning your face. Throwing a rude comment at him, you eventually leave Melone and his creepy tendencies.

The Italian watches you storming off, a smirk on his face. He doesn’t worry about this incidence. He will get you afterwards, he’s made sure off it.

“You should touch me more often like that, amore.” “You’re disgusting Melone, next time I’ll leave you out to die.”

“I’ve got some special games for you prepared. And if you behave well, I make sure to give you a gift.” You get sick to your stomach at his words.

Yan! Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio seethes with anger as he stumbles through the door. Why did he have to get attacked this bad by the enemy? Though he’s more than proud to have annihilated them.

As you see the man clutching his wounded side enter, you make your way to him to heal him, earning a scornful look by the prideful Italian.

What you don’t know is that his ego is only that big because he wants, like Risotto, appear strong in front of you.

During the healing process, a string of insults escape the assassin’s mouth. You roll your eyes at the dramatic behaviour.

Ghiaccio has a hard time to express his affection for you. At first, he has been annoyed by you infiltrating his mind, but now he has grown tender to it. He wishes he could be more soft with you, but having his feelings under control has never been his strong suit. Though he wants to try it today, because what day could be better than Christmas?

You grow uncomfortable by the hitman’s intense gaze. Tentatively, you ask him if everything’s alright.

Ghiaccio snaps out of his thoughts. Impulsively, he just blurts out if you wanna spend Christmas with him.

He keeps on going, saying that he usually hates the cheesiness that comes with the holiday, but he would like to make it a nice experience for you, with him by your side…

You interrupt his rambling by saying that you already spend the holidays with your family off-base.

Hearing your answer, the assassin’s hot anger returns. He’s making an effort for you, could you not see that? Why would you decline his offer then?

You are about to leave him as suddenly ice hits your feet and legs and you are frozen to the floor, giving you no choice as to remain in the room.

Ghiaccio didn’t mean to use White Album on you, but he can’t help it if you act so stubborn and ungrateful. Now you would spend Christmas with him for sure.

“This little son of a-“ “Ghiaccio please, calm down.”

“Spend Christmas with me. I know, I hate this corny shit, but with you, it will be more bearable.”

[arambleaway]

Okay, so like Ace Attorney recently ate my brain. And I have never played any of the games. This is the true potential of the internet at work people. Anyway.

I keep thinking about my very specific images of Phoenix Wright, Miles Edgeworth, and the relationship therein. This is gonna be a long one because I can't be assed to make it more coherent than the mess it is in my brain.

So. Phoenix is obviously from a very loving and supportive family except they absolutely loathe the law and law professionals. Phoenix is trans and his family is super supportive, allowing him to express himself even from a young age. Unfortunately, Phoenix's new teacher isn't so great. Is actually a bit of a piece of shit and has been isolating Phoenix and so the poor boy has spent the first couple months of being out being harassed by his teacher and classmates. And that is part of why the trial sticks with Phoenix so much. Because Miles stands up to not only the students, but the teacher and all of the vitriol they've been leaking as well. And he doesn't just drop Phoenix after. He still wants him around and as a little kid that shit sticks with Phoenix far longer than it does with Larry and Edgeworth. Also, unfortunately, if you've got one asshole teacher, you've likely got a few nearby, so Phoenix's family does their best to support him and they offer to transfer him and do what they can, but Phoenix as a child is afraid to move and never see Edgeworth or Larry again so he doesn't. And then when he starts writing letters, he finds he can't stop because they become confessionals of a sort and a place where he doesn't have to be on guard and can know that the person he is writing to is accepting of his identity even if he does wonder from time to time if maybe Edgeworth no longer accepts him.

Anyway, then canon, yada yada. Lets talk about Miles now. Miles is depressed, okay. And he writes that note (you know the one) completely literally. But here's the thing: Miles knows the trauma of finding dead bodies. Has probably seen the mess they leave, and doesn't want to cause more harm than he already has. So he writes the note and packs the pills/blade/etc into a suitcase and takes a flight to Europe where no one that knows him will have a chance to stumble upon him. The turnabout is this: on the plane over he gets into an argument with his seat buddy. Its no one important, but the key info on him is that he is in therapy and sort of off hand brings it up and Miles, who was not raised with a pleasant idea of therapists and such starts an unholy row with him, blatantly projecting his own insecurities and perceived weaknesses on this poor man. The flight attendants have to separate the two and the man spends the rest of the time in first class. Miles spends the rest of the flight getting dirty looks from everyone else. By the flight's end he is frothing at the mouth and the man's assertion that therapy is not something for the faint of heart has been burrowing under his skin. He gets off the plane and rather than immediately commit he thinks he might as well make the source clear and winds up at the empty von Karma estate. He spends the night with a blade on his wrist and voices in his ears. But he doesn't move.

He falls asleep and he wakes from a nightmare he can't recall and it is noon the next day. He doesn't eat, he doesn't move. He just lays there and thinks. He thinks about Phoenix, Franziska, His Father, von Karma, all the lives he's sent to prison after measuring them against a false scale, and he thinks of the man on the plane. He thinks of the things he said, the ring he noticed on his finger, and the husband that was brought up at some point in their altercation. He thinks a lot about what it means to be and Edgeworth and what it means to be a von Karma. He picks up the blade and he puts it in his suitcase. He starts to research Therapists. Because he is going to have the best therapist in the business if he is going to do this. (He just kinda goes for the one with the most academic accolades that is willing to do home visits or move of some shit, anyway) Miles Edgeworth starts therapy and it goes horribly. Miles hates it viscerally and he doesn't feel like his therapist understands. (Which they don't. They keep trying to convince Edgeworth to see and actual trauma specialist and find someone that he clicks with rather than coming back to them). His therapist is worth their name though, and Miles is actually hospitalized due to being a danger to himself. For all that he loathes this, it does eventually allow him to meet with an actual trauma specializing therapist and finally maybe understand what the big deal is. He still hates it, but he finds the therapist that actually suits him and things get a little better.

The first thing is he stops living in the von Karma estate. He admits its a bad place for him to be at the moment and so he moves closer to his therapist and gets a rental flat. Second he gets a new wardrobe. He's been using his stuff left at the von Karma home and all of it is his flashy very "von Karma" wear. So he goes and gets new suits tailored in his preferred style and he pays for them and wears them because he realizes he likes them and not because he is trying to emulate his Mentor. This step is especially a big deal because it is the first moment where he is able to really define who "Miles Edgeworth" is outside of the confines of the courtroom. In all this, of course, he is also figuring out who he is within the courtroom as well. After committing to his therapist and recovery, he goes back into Law in Germany and really tries to define why he still wants to be there. I like to think he spends some time in small courts as a defense attorney assistant while trying to redefine his place. Anyway, eventually Miles decides he wants to remove his old stuff from the von Karma estate. He might move in his new stuff but for now it is merely removing the old, giving him the space and option of a new start. In clearing his stuff he winds up in the storage space on the household and there he finds an old suitcase.

The suitcase is Miles's from when he first came to the household. Von Karma had told the staff to pitch it when they first arrived and apparently whoever was on duty that day was kind enough to save it for later. Miles has a bit of a breakdown on seeing it and has a rather sharp set back in his improvement. He finds himself staring at the knife again. Because he never put it away. He still doesn't. But he doesn't touch it, just looks. Miles fights his way back out of the hole and in doing so removes all of his things from the estate except that little suitcase. Its the last thing and he opens it to slowly deal with the contents. Most of it is children's clothes, some expired toiletries, but buried in the deepest part of the case, wrapped lovingly in an old bowtie is his Father's defense attorney badge. Miles doesn't have a breakdown this time (yay!) but he does spend the next week unable to sleep for the sheer intensity of his nightmares. He carries on though. He slowly and surely patches together who exactly Miles Edgeworth is and what he wants to stand for. And that little gold badge stays folded in the bow tie and tucked in the deepest corner of his latest suitcase. He throws out the knife.

Once again back to canon, he returns doesn't tell anyone shit, and slowly relearns Phoenix Wright and what that man means to him. Hazakura temple, all the gay vibes, until the disbarment era. Lets stop by Phoenix again, shall we?

Phoenix is disbarred and for the first so many years he is genuinely friends with Kristoph Gavin. None of this "oh i always suspected shit", he believes in Kristoph, because that's who Phoenix is. At this point Edgeworth is still in Europe and a large part of that is so that he can continue with his therapy. But he does drop everything to talk to Phoenix once he hears the news. He immediately knows that something is up because Phoenix would never and he believes in him more than anyone else and he is offering to do everything in his power to make this better because Phoenix is worth it and Miles love-- woah. that's a new emotion. what the fuck is up with that. So anyway Miles realizes that he has some less than platonic feelings and he wants to run back to Europe and his therapist and figure out what it all means, but above all Wright is his Friend dammit and he owes him so much. But on Phoenix's side, he sees how far Edgeworth is offering to go and he turns down all of the things that would cause Miles's life to be disrupted. He does accept the knowledge and shoulder to lean on that Edgeworth offers, but Edgeworth doesn't need to move continents or anything. Besides he has Kristoph here to help. And Miles kind of hates all of this situation, but he knows that he truly doesn't have the kind of knowledge and pull to really be of service not to mention his new discovery is not doing his health any favors. So he goes back to Germany and Phoenix stays with Kristoph.

Now Miles is in Germany figuring out how to manage complex emotions and romantic relationships, while Phoenix is working with Kristoph, who becomes Kris, who could maybe be more except Phoenix isn't sure it would be fair to him since he has become more than a little hung up on Edgeworth since he came back from Europe. And because when Edgeworth asks him to Europe he jumps with no forethought. He gets Kris to watch Trucy and jets off to spend time with Miles. They do their amazing duo routine and Edgeworth comes away from the encounter knowing that yes, he very much would like a romantic relationship with Phoenix. Okay. Now how to go about it. Meanwhile Phoenix gets back and sees Trucy and this is when he realizes that Kristoph is dirty. Trucy tells him about something she saw while she stayed with him and something clicks and Phoenix has a mild breakdown because of how much danger he just realizes she might be in. He calls Miles at some point during this and Miles talks him down. He falls asleep and in the morning he doesn't shave. He smiles and gets Trucy to school, then sits in the office and tries to figure out where he goes from here. That afternoon there is knock at the door.

Miles Edgeworth does nothing half way and has flown to Phoenix just to be able to help him figure out the next steps and comfort him. Phoenix is officially gone for this man. The two talk and scheme and eventually hatch their mad plan to rebuild the entire fucking system. Miles will use his distance to research and provide information, Phoenix will keep an eye on Kristoph and start building what he can here. In all of this Trucy's safety comes up. Phoenix actually considers sending her with Miles. Miles puts that idea to a stop real quick, though he does mention doing more visits and such. Trucy is very happy to hear about this and demands to go every time. Phoenix says something along the lines of it being more expensive for two people to fly and joking that it would be cheaper if they just let him keep her in his suitcase. This is how Miles Edgeworth returns to Germany with a solid plan for the future and one Magician more than planned. Trucy obviously sneaks into his luggage and somehow makes it with him to Germany. In doing so she finds the badge in his bag, and despite the intense scolding she gets, the two are finally able to really connect and bond as Miles opens up to her a bit about his Father and what he has gone through.

Eventually Trucy gets back where she belongs and despite a few more hijinks over the years things progress via canon. Edgeworth and Phoenix have both accepted their feelings but have yet to act on them as neither is in a position to properly be with the other as they wish. So they flirt and argue and love each other intensely as only the best of friends and trauma buddies can. It all pays off and Kristoph is arrested. Phoenix is innocent, but he is unsure about going back into law. In this case, Kris was kinda the last proof of where blind belief will get you and it isn't just a façade, Phoenix is a lot bitter at the larger world and himself. So he isn't in the greatest place mentally, and Edgeworth sees it. And for the first time he thinks about reaching out to someone. Especially because this is Phoenix not just a random stranger on a plane. Then he finds he has the option to take the Chief Prosecutor position, and he finds himself staring at his Father's badge. He thinks on the years and his growth, and he talks with his therapist. And he decides to move. He takes the new position and seeing Phoenix struggle so close he finally shares about therapy. Not all of it. Nothing really just that he goes and has since the year-they-do-not-speak-of and that he is looking for a new one in the city and maybe Phoenix would like to help him. Because he values Phoenix and his opinions. Phoenix does eventually wind up in a therapists office and it is a mess, but it helps.

The two reconnect more strongly than ever and shortly thereafter Phoenix agrees to take the Bar again. Miles supports him in this and watches as he struggles and groans but makes it through. And at the same time he watches him heal a bit from the atrocities of the past 7 years. When Phoenix passes he is over-joyed and that night finds him holding his Father's badge and slowly thinking. Turning the idea over and over he can't bring himself to ignore it. He walks up to Phoenix in the office the next day and with all the drama of a marriage proposal give Phoenix his Father's badge. Apollo starts to realize exactly what sort of shit he signed up for. Especially when Miles turns up a couple weeks later and attempts to strangle Phoenix with his own tie and demands having the badge back because What The Fuck. An Orca. You Absolute Dumbass.

This is the point where my ideas dry up. Because where I leave them is pining idiots that are actually doing pretty ok. I figure they eventually get their shit together, but only after inflicting immense suffering on their co-workers and the legal system as a whole with their obvious pining and flirting. I barely know Apollo but watching him suffer is just more amusing than it should be. Also Miles is Autistic and it actually is part of what allows him to bond with Trucy.

[chiafett-moved]

Using all the clones from ur high school au, what kind of civ clothing do you think they'd wear?

Okay okay okay I took some time and went to TOWN on this one so clone clothes below the cut

Fox:

First and foremost, Fox has his own pinterest board. There’s not much in the way of clothes there, but yeah. 

Lots of red and black

Hoodies and jeans. Jeans and hoodies. Hoodies and Jeans

If you saw the shape of my body No You Didn’t 😁

Someone help him

Always dressed as though it’s approximately 20C. Sort of like a comic character who wears variations of the same outfit.

For someone who hates being perceived, he does wear some tight clothes

Overall, sort of unintentionally punk/emo and tired

Lip, tongue, and ear piercings

Hunter:

Also has two pinterest boards (butch AU and normal)

Cottagecore farmer. Lots of neutral tones and loose, soft fabrics

Loves knit things

Very picky about texture and fit. If it’s tight, it gets donated

Wears things until they fall apart. This does not take long

Soft, waterproof, ankle-high hiking boots that he wears everywhere

L a y e r s 

Constantly putting his hair up or taking it down

Very concerned with taking care of his curls (and for good reason; they’re gorgeous)

Farmer’s tan n freckles

Tech:

Business casual some days, absolute trash others. There is no rhyme or reason. 

If Hunter’s all about consistency, Tech is the opposite (autism vs ADHD in a nutshell lmfao)

Pockets are a must

He has a messenger bag a la Spencer Reid 

Big ol’ glasses with a thick enough lens that you can see behind him if you look at the right angle

Converse

Has these awful graphic tees from the time he went to Goodwill with Hunter

Wrecker:

Big comfy sweaters like those ones they sell at Old Navy

Walking hug with steel-toed boots

He has trouble finding XXL Tall clothes that aren’t Barbecue Dad™ so he takes what he can get 

Rips the knees of pants first

Rips the tags out of everything

Cannot match colors to save his life and hasn’t yet figured out the Hunter tactic of just owning neutral things

He has a lot of fun hats

Carhartt short sleeve shirts and jeans with sharpie and paint on them

If he can’t move in it, he doesn’t want it

Big fan of open short-sleeve button downs over tees

Constantly asking Tech to hold things for him (they get lost in the Bottomless Messenger Bag)

Crosshair:

Typical teenage boy with a side of edgy

You know those joggers with the puffy knees or the cargo pockets? Big wearer of those

Sneaker Snob

Once he dressed up for a school event and he looked so good but pretended not to notice

Big City Gay energy

Constantly has a pack of cigarettes on him, so he’s got to have a pocket for them. He’s got to have a pocket, right? I just can’t see it from here. There must be a pocket because otherwise where is he getting those he’s pulling them out of nowhere send reinforcements—

Steals Hunter’s worn-out, oversized flannels but he’s a tall bitch so they’re pretty normal on him. How is he making them look so edgy?

Dogma:

Wears the same outfit a concerning amount. Like, you don’t notice anything and then all the sudden he’s been wearing the same thing for two weeks. Doesn’t smell bad or anything, though, so ?????

Always put together, but in that way that’s kind of fraying around the edges

I don’t really know how to describe his clothes beyond a sort of vibe? Idk

He’s a really skinny guy and he loves clothes with angular shapes and hard edges, so he kind of looks like a stick figure with really cool geometric designs

He tries to look sort of formal and aloof, but it doesn’t work

His Manic Art Kid vibe is visible from space, though

He looks cute but in a freshman kind of way. Like, “aww, look at him!”

But also radiates the kind of energy that makes people highly concerned

Many ear piercings and one eyebrow piercing

Tall gangly and intimidating

Always carrying his backpack

Tup:

Basically Dogma but with softer edges and rounder shapes

The Ridiculously Well-Adjusted Art Kid

Always has paint somewhere

Looks like a mess but makes it work

Messy buns

Big fan of overalls and colorful shirts

Likes long sleeves

Converse out the ass, but in a ton of different colors

Big sweaters

People forget he’s tall and Stronk because the way he dresses makes him look small (oversized things do that)

Got his ears pierced when Dogma got his third helix, but let them close

Stacked bracelets

Echo:

Somehow soft punk meets varsity kid? He makes it work

Khaki pants but cool 

Open zip-up hoodies and comfy, well-fitting tee shirts

Sneakers only, unless he has to be fancy

Sometimes wears fingerless gloves and refuses to explain why

Undercut

No I lied sometimes he wears stompy boots just because they’re at odds with the rest of his aesthetic

Basically big calm comfy vibes without looking sloppy or informal

Will wear button downs as normal shirts with jeans

Likes to do the graphic tee over thermal shirt thing

Joggers

SKATER BOY. That’s the word I was thinking of. Soft skater boy (he and Fives both skate)

Fives:

Band tees and jeans 

Not a fan of shorts. Has anyone ever seen his legs?

Constantly has this big-ass set of headphones around his neck

Beanies

Also a graphic tee and thermal shirt layerer

Rarely not wearing jeans

Sometimes wears pajamas to school specifically to piss off teachers

Snapbacks

Paints his nails a variety of colors, but mostly black. Somehow the polish is always chipped

Big wearer of Vans, actually is a skater

Tears through the elbows of his jeans jackets falling 

Cody:

Gay smart kid. Debate team captain. Soccer captain. Looks better than you. Looks better than the teachers. Could kill you. 

He wears a lot of half-zips and khakis, but makes it look less nerdy than usual

Sports paraphernalia helps. Hard to look nerdy when the zip-up you’re wearing is from wrestling Nationals

When he wears tee-shirts, they’re always tight? Does he buy them a size small on purpose? (yes, yes he does)

Collector of those really nice zip-up hoodies with the geometric designs that make them look really nice and neat

Actually wears sunglasses when it’s sunny

Has never been seen in a hat

Neyo:

Oh god oh fuck DIY punk? He’s oh god he’s

Neyo my dear that sweatshirt is falling apart

Neyo is. Troubled and in a Bad home. His clothing choices reflect this. 

He does not want to touch or be touched and he wants to look cool doing it

Stoner kid but Spiky

And also he doesn’t actually smoke

Wears combat boots that look like they’ve seen blood

Skinny jeans bc he’s edgy and cool

Patch pants/vest

Also has a pinterest board

Bacara:

Bland depressed kid. Jeans and dark hoodies

Seriously he’s just trying to vibe. He wants to be comfy and he doesn’t want to draw a ton of attention

Black converse

Constantly has a farmer’s tan

Not a fan of short sleeves

Thinks Neyo looks ridiculous

Has never been dress coded in his life 

Seriously Bacara’s idea of spicing up an outfit is wearing like. A polo.